


The Supreme Daughter

by Believer29



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dark Rey, Dark Side Rey, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-06-19 07:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 55,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15505653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Believer29/pseuds/Believer29
Summary: Rey is Snoke's adopted daughter, a powerful agent of the Dark Side, and working with the First Order on a path to victory. But a vision about a certain Dark Knight could destroy her. What can she do when the Force continues to lead her to the same path as Kylo Ren: the one person she can't risk loving, but can't destroy, either. Reylo. R&R. RATED M for violence, sex, in later chapters





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: mentions of child rape & violence in this chapter.  
> A/N: Summary in title. Basically Snoke recognises Rey's powers at an early age and adopts her. How does the story differ when she grows up in the First Order? This story follows from Rey's childhood right through to the end of the Force Awakens. I have plans for continuity but I'll see how I go. I have written this and proofread myself. It's important to me to be as accurate and true to character as I can. Please bear in mind how I've written Rey is how I believe she would speak and behave as Leader Snoke's adopted daughter, but all other characters should be true. There will be some OC's. There will be large gaps in the story as I jump ahead through the years. There will be sex scenes; although I’ll be covering them with a ‘T’ rating if I don’t feel that an ‘M’ rated graphic sex scene fits well. Eventual Reylo - but I hope to reward your patience. I will try to update on a regular basis, but with life beyond the fictional I can’t make promises, only I won’t abandon it. Thank you. Enjoy and please review, it makes me happy.

Rey was four years old when her parents left her on Jakku. You'll be safe here little Rey, they said. We'll be back.

 

She'd been waiting for almost three years for them to return. Unkar Plutt was the closest thing she had to a guardian, and that was perhaps the saddest part. After a month on Jakku, the money her parents paid Plutt to look after her had run out. "They've abandoned you girl, you're not the first and you won't ever be the last. And if you want to eat, if you want to live, you work." At least he had been forthright, she supposed, if that was the only attribute he possessed.

She became a scavenger, climbing inside downed starships and trading her salvaged parts with Unkar Plutt for food. She couldn't encroach on the other, older, more experienced scavengers, they were bigger and stronger, and she couldn't fight them, but she could work smarter. She could climb into crevasses they couldn't, access the intricate workings of computer panels and expensive wiring. She learned to read all the codes, speak all the languages, and do what she could to survive. If you could call it survival. 

Nights were the worst. She could only hide, desperate to sleep but so afraid. There were evil men who could do unspeakable things to little girls sleeping in their beds. There were whores, of course, but they cost portions. Why trade your lifeline for pleasure when you could steal it for nothing?

 

She was six years old when the older scavenger had found her. He'd been watching her for days. She'd been so afraid she'd pushed him away with all her might – an invisible barrier knocking him away. She thought she had won. He'd punched her so hard in the head that her world was shrouded in a dark cloud, barely present, but aware enough to know and feel what he did to her – as he touched her in places that made her sick and did things she could never forget.

That was the night she first heard his voice. A deep, calm whisper. _"You want to kill him."_

_Yes._

The voice was dark and resonating, comforting and soothing. The voice knew her. Understood her.

 

On the days when the sandstorms hit, when there was no salvaging to be done, when she was stuck indoors with hunger pains beyond imagining, so sick and tired, so afraid to sleep, so lonely, he was there to comfort her. She would tell him her secrets, her feelings. He would whisper sweet nothings to her as she fell asleep. He was her confidant, and her sole friend.

When two older boys beat her, kicked sand in her face and stole her haul, and her day's rations – he would encourage her, show her how to fight for what was hers. She slit the boy's throats in their sleep and took their portions. She had enough to eat for a week.

Rey had been stuck in the towering heights of an up-turned star destroyer when her climbing cable had come loose from the pulley and she was stranded. He had shown her that she had special powers. She could use the Force to pull the rope back.

She became greedy. She wanted more. How else could she use her powers? Could she lift entire ships to find new parts, buried in the sand? Could she use the Force to find her parents?

He told her that her parents sold her. They didn't want her. That she was beautiful and special, but they threw her away on Jakku, a junk yard at the end of the galaxy. He told her that she's nothing, a nobody – but not to him.

 

She was seven years old, and suddenly the voice stopped. She couldn’t hear it anymore, he was gone. She screamed into the wilderness, speaking to nobody, crying to the vast, empty skies but she couldn’t hear him anymore. When the evil man came back for her again one night, she was so weak and devastated that she couldn’t fight him off – but then she heard _him_ again. Her invisible friend. _"Use the Force,"_ he told her, _"Strangle him. Destroy him. Watch him die."_

She pulled in the man's direction and seized his neck, crushing with all her anger, her desperation.

_"Reach out with your anger."_

She heard the man gurgle and watched him thrash about. The bones in his neck crunched and his body went limp, but he was still alive. She held him for several long minutes until his eyes were bloodshot, dark, and unseeing, his nose was bleeding a dark crimson.

_"How does it feel?"_

_Good._

 

The next morning, there was speculation and whispers among the locals, that there was a murderer among them. Everyone was suspicious of Rey, not that they expect the young girl could murder another, but they think she knew more than she said. If possible, she felt more alone and alienated than ever. They didn't understand, they couldn't. Only he did.

* * *

 

He comes for her later that day.

A harrowing black shuttle with sharp edges and menacing, folded wings lands near Niima Outpost. Stormtroopers engulf the marketplace.

 _Rey_ , she hears his voice. _Come to me, Rey._

"Where are you?" she pleads.

_Use the Force, Rey. Reach out with your feelings._

 

She lets the Force guide her, just how he has taught her. One footstep after another, into soft sand and onto smooth, metal grating as she walks slowly up the ramp into the shuttle, with greyscale walls, clinical lighting and a hooded figure waiting for her.

  
"Welcome, my child," he steps forward and kneels to meet her height. She is startled to hear his voice in person, instead of inside her mind. She is awestruck and says nothing. "It is so nice to finally meet you." He lowers his hood and she sees an old man, of a species she doesn't recognise, but with icy blue eyes she feels like she's known forever. "I'm not what you expected, I know. I've seen your dreams."

"I waited so long-" she cries. "I didn't think you were real."

"I needed to be sure that you were the one. That you wanted it badly enough, that you were special, enough."

She falters then, not believing herself to be special. "You are special," he murmurs, and she feels him inside her mind like an icy trickle down her spine.

"I am special," she says back.

"Join me, Rey." He holds out a single, wrinkled hand to her. "Pledge yourself to me and I will show you how special you are."

She looks from his hand to his cool eyes.

"Join me, and you will never know loneliness again. You will never be hungry again. No man will ever lay a hand on you again. And I will show you the power of the Dark Side."

 

She can see herself in his eyes, laughing and happy, never alone, never lost. She takes his hand, but ever so greedy, she wants more. He can feel her thoughts, feel her desire, and he opens himself to her, and she steps into his embrace.

 

He tells her that from this moment forward, she won't carry her parents name. She will be known as Rey Snoke.

 

His voice is smooth and hypnotic. "You're my daughter, now, Rey."


	2. Part One: A Dark Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments, it's a really lovely feeling getting those notifications.

"All droids resynchronize to Galactic Standard Time, offset four-oh-five."

She hears the feint echo of the tannoy beyond the doors to her private quarters. She'd been dreaming of fire and violence, of fierce battles and victorious chants. She'd led the armies into battle, slaughtered the traitorous bureaucrats and those she liberated would scream her name. _Lady Rey! Lady Rey!_

But it was only a dream. She thinks of everything her father has planned for her and shuts down her bloodlust because it would be absurd to think he would allow her to walk among the foot soldiers, stand among the blood and dirt. Control with power. Power with grace.

She rolls out of bed, and waves her hand, waking the lights with the Force. She slips from her nightgown and into her training gear, thin black tights, vest and running shoes, a routine so practised she could do it with her eyes closed and hands bound. She winds her long hair into a tight, messy bun, and steps into the 'fresher, filling a cup of water at the sink while appraising her reflection. Hazel eyes look back at her, set in a small, pale face with a feint smattering of freckles. Her dark brown hair wild and pulled into a haphazard up-do that surely wouldn't last her training regime. Too young, she grimaces at herself. Old enough to know the ways of the universe. Too young to be taken seriously. And learning, forever learning.

_Patience_ , he had said. _Your time will come._

Not soon enough.

_So impatient to grow up. You have much to learn._

She's thirteen, turning fourteen this year, and slowly blossoming into a woman, as her handmaiden, Tes, had said. She's had to start wearing breast bands and more feminine clothes. She's complained but Tes, although compliant, always had the nerve to point out that some girls would kill to have her privileges. She wants to tell Tes that she has killed to earn her position with Supreme Leader Snoke, but she doesn't want to ruin their relationship. Tes thinks she serves the highest born princess in the galaxy, but when Rey looks in the mirror, she sees something much more sinister.

Every morning she is served breakfast, takes a hot shower and Tes helps her prepare for training with her father each day.

But this precious time in the morning, two hours before anyone else is wakened at the start of the next cycle, this is time is hers. She serves no master and follows no rules.

Rey finishes her drink, places the cup aside and leaves her reflection behind. She opens the door to her quarters and starts jogging down the halls of the Supremacy, her ship, her home. The Supremacy is a massive, flying wedge spanning 60 kilometres in diameter, the first of its kind, a mega-class Star Destroyer. It can deliver the destructive force of an entire fleet, with hangars and repair bays big enough to service the smaller Resurgent -class Star Destroyers. Within its armoured hull there features a training centre for new recruits, factories that churn out stormtrooper armour and weaponry, warehouses of resources that make it an entirely independent, movable base without need to make planetfall for years. This technological marvel is her home, and her prison.

She knows every corridor, every door, every chute, elevator and viewscreen. She reaches out with the Force and propels herself forward with each stride, running faster and faster. There's a squad of stormtroopers crossing her path, and she rebounds herself off the wall, leaping over them and continuing down the corridor. They don't give her a second glance. They're used to her antics.

When she misses the turbolift to the lower levels, she uses the Force to open the elevator doors and dives through the empty shaft. She's falling and it's exhilarating and dangerous. She sees another elevator moving opposite and thinks quickly, repelling herself through the open doors of another level thirty floors down, landing gracefully into a roll, taking a moment to catch her breath, as her hair tumbles out of its inadequate tie. She can feel a group of dark Force users close by, and she steals a glance as the Knights of Ren have entered her corridor from a nearby hanger.

_Kriff_ , she curses to herself. They've seen her elevator shaft stunt and would surely report it to her father. Or Tes.

"My Lady," he greets, the one with the vibrostaff, who's name she couldn't remember. She gives him her best stare of indifference, and runs in the other direction, sliding beneath a hovering interrogation droid. She wishes she could mind-trick them into forgetting what they had seen, but she was no match for seven powerful Force warriors. Seven at once, anyway. When she's safely out of sight, she realises that not so long ago, the Knights of Ren had been six in number.

Perhaps she had miscounted.

Perhaps another has been recruited.

She stops. Another newcomer? Another Force warrior to be taken under her father's wing? To be trained in the Dark side? That means less time for her own training, her own lessons. Now, she needs to compete for his attention. Make her Father's efforts worthwhile, show him the fruits of his labour.

Training with her father is the only thing that gives her any true joy and purpose. Nobody is going to take it from her. She stands, sweat trickling down her face, fists balled and shaking with fury. She must get there first. She reaches out with her anger, her hate and feels her surroundings dissolve in shadow. Then she runs, faster than she has before, this new complication, this new motivation fuelling her in ways she hasn't known before. She knows her path, the quickest way back to her quarters, dashing left through to hangar C and crossing the pristine deck. With a lithe, powerful energy, she leaps from the deck onto the highest platform, two levels up. Two stormtroopers stop and stare. That was not a usual part of her antics. This is something new. They don't move out of her way quick enough and she pushes them aside, knocking their feet from beneath them with an invisible tug, and she steps over them, going to the elevator to the topmost levels of the ship. She reaches out with the Force, and sure enough, she can feel her rivals slowly making their way higher. But she will get there first. She steps out of the elevator, and freezes. The corridor to the right leads to her father's throne room. The one to the left leads to her own quarters. The Knights of Ren are coming. And she's not even properly dressed.

_Think, think, think,_ she smacks her forehead. Presenting herself to her father in her current state, sweaty, unkempt, and flushed, would not please him in the slightest. What an unusual fusion of circumstance and emotion she found herself in.

_Fusion._

_Fuse._

"Fuses!" she grins and goes for the nearest elevator panel. She finds the manhole and flicks the switch to activate it, climbing inside to follow the wiring. She disables and yanks the fuses from their position and drops them through the opening and down the elevator shaft. When she emerges, she examines the lift controls. They're all out of order, and the Knights of Ren are stuck on the twelfth level, waiting for a turbolift that's not coming. The voice on the intercom announces the start of the cycle, and the ships stirs into life. She stalks proudly back to her quarters to freshen up, with the smugness of a winner – even if she's the only one playing the game.

Tes has her breakfast served when she walks in, and her usual attire laid out on the immaculately made bed. She eats her breakfast like a starved gundark, she showers, gets dressed and sits still and impatient while Tes braids her hair and applies a light dusting of powder to her face, and lines her eyes with kohl. Control with power. Power with grace.

She leaves Tes alone with the service droid to clean up her mess, and strides purposefully down the corridor towards her father's throne room. Just as she is about to reach a juncture, the Knights of Ren come walking around the corner, taking over her path. They haven't seen her yet, and they take up the whole width of the corridor. She grinds her teeth in frustration, silently following them. They haven't sensed her, their attentions are drawn forward, towards Leader Snoke. She waits until they reach the door, the Praetorian guard steps aside, the door slides open with a precision hiss and she trails the dark warriors inside. Her father is waiting at the end of the long, immaculate room with black glossy floors and red banners. They still haven't noticed her. _Be mindful of your surroundings._

She reaches out gently with the Force, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven – grabs them all by their necks and yanks them back so they lose balance and fall to the floor in a comically uncoordinated manner, a flurry of black cloaks, grunts of surprise and masked faces flush with embarrassment. She smirks, and takes a slow, deliberate step over the newcomer. He is the tallest and had the furthest to fall. She can feel his eyes following her from behind his mask. She lets the bottom of her robes brush against his body as she crosses him, with an air of superiority, as if there were any misunderstanding of who held the real power in this room.

She approaches her father and kneels, submissive and averting her eyes. "I apologise, Father. That was arrogant and childish of me."

His icy blue eyes bore into hers when she dares to look up, and he waves her aside with his hand. She takes her place and stands at the Supreme Leader's right. Her father is not pleased and will let her indiscretion slide for now – but she knows she will be reprimanded later.

"What news from Bardotta?" Leader Snoke asks. Rey breaks a small, subtle smile to herself. He already knows about Bardotta and wants to see if the Knights will report back the same details, or lie, or embellish their tale. All faces hidden by masks, all eyes on her father, except for one. The tallest, the newcomer, she can feel him looking to the Supreme Leader's right. To her. She lets her smile drop, but he's already seen it, his head cocks to the side ever so slightly, imperceptible but to the focussed eye. He's evaluating her. He doesn't know her, except for what the Knights may have told him, except for their brief early-morning distant corridor encounter – and he knows she is strong with the Force and has caught him off guard. He's trying to place her in this story, she thinks, where does she fit in this puzzle and what does it mean for him? How he chooses to behave hereon in will determine his future here.

The newcomer stays silent, all attention turned to the brawniest of the seven, standing in the middle of the group as he recalls their successes on Bardotta. They have successfully assisted in the orchestration of a coup – and now the leaders of the Bardotta System will heed the First Order's beck and call. Another sympathiser to add to their cause. The Knights have done well.

There is praise for the newcomer, called Ben, who ruthlessly cut down the Republic loyalist military leaders and saved the industrial sector from sure destruction. The Bardottans would not suffer from a decline in industry and job losses – as was common in civil war – and that important element would bolster their support for Supreme Leader Snoke. This Ben, this tall, enigmatic new arrival, is not another mindless warrior. He is sophisticated and calculating.

_What do you think of my new apprentice?_ She can hear her father's voice in her mind.

A wave of jealousy spreads through her core. Her father knows how this makes her feel, but wants to know if she will rise above the petulance. "I can feel his conflict when you say his name," she whispers quietly back, so that only he can hear.

_So perceptive._

"By the grace of your training, Father."

"From this day forth you will be known as Kylo Ren," Leader Snoke announces. "And I forbid anyone from using the name you carried in your former life."

"Thank you, Supreme Leader."

Snoke dismisses the Knights and asks Kylo Ren to stay. He stands to attention.

"Kylo Ren," Snoke breathes in his gravelly tone. "This is my daughter, Rey Snoke."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, My Lady," Kylo dips his head in reverence. The mask projects and amplifies his voice, distorted and deep – Rey wonders what his real voice sounds like, what his real face looks like beneath his mask. Kylo reaches up to remove his helmet, and Rey's pulse quickens in panic. Could he sense her feelings because she wasn't paying attention? _I must be more mindful of my thoughts._ His mask disappears, revealing thick, dark hair and a large nose set in a handsome face, with dark expressive eyes she thinks she can easily get lost in. If eyes are the windows to one's soul, she can see his clearly enough. There's pain, and anger there, she knows because she can see the same in her own reflection. But when he looks at her, a softness. A dark force warrior with endless potential for violence – but a kindness also, which saddens her. Any kindness this young man has, her father will surely snuff it out.

"She tripped all of the Knights upon your arrival," Snoke turns to glare at her, in only the way a father can. "It was very immature."

"We should be more mindful of our surroundings," Kylo offers, treading carefully with mild assertion. His voice is deep and honied, and Rey tries to remember the pitch, the way his lips move when he speaks. She thinks it will be a long time, if ever, that she sees Kylo without his mask again. She's never seen a Knight of Ren's face before and just because Kylo Ren is different doesn't mean the same rules don't apply to him.

"Lessons for both, Father. I should not behave so juvenile, and your Knights should pay more attention," Rey speaks in undertones to her father and he sneers back at her. That's twice today she's displeased him, in the presence of others. Her inevitable reprimand is going to hurt.

Snoke tells Kylo Ren to report to him tomorrow for training, before turning to his daughter. "Get out of my sight."

"Yes, Father," she kneels in respect, Kylo mirroring her actions and they both walk out of the Throne room, and he slows his paces to follow her smaller strides.

They're out of the room and past the Praetorian guards, when he calls her name softly. He's wearing his mask again, his face hidden, and his voice altered.

"My Lady," he says, and she turns, her hands clasped together with a lady's grace and a countenance of indifference. She looks up at him, and he towers over her, a harsh reminder that she's still so young, and so small. Then, he does something unexpected, and crouches down, balancing on the balls of his feet, and now she has the advantage of height. She's seen others do this before, but this time he's doing it with a sense of respect, instead of condescension.

"Yes?" she prompts. The air around them is swirling with the Force, and it's almost stifling.

Then, he removes a glove from his hand, and reaches into his pocket, retrieving a strip of cloth and offering it to her. It's her hair tie fallen from her morning exercise. She retrieves it from his open palm and their fingertips touch. The moment skin meets skin she feels a tingling sensation and it's as though the shroud of their Force signatures is lifted, and she can feel everything he feels, and imagines he can feel the same. This is a peace offering. Everything becomes clear to her, then. He knows how to play the game. Who holds the power, who has the influence, who to connect with and who is worth the time and effort. The daughter of the Supreme Leader is most definitely worth the effort and if he can gain her favour, it helps to cement his position. Her lips curl into a knowing smile.

"Thank you, Kylo Ren. You are a great asset for the First Order. I look forward to working with you."

He dips his head dutifully with thanks and she turns on her heel and strides the opposite way, clutching her hair tie to her chest, trying to tamp down her thumping heart. She thinks she could make a friend out of him, perhaps, if her father would allow it.

She's never had a friend before.

 


	3. Part One: Cabin Fever

They cross paths at least twice a day. Once at the start of the cycle, she is leaving her father’s throne room when he enters for his training with Leader Snoke. And at the end of the day, when he leaves, and she returns to share an evening meal with her father, as is their usual custom.

She’s jealous that the new Knight of Ren is monopolising Snoke’s time, but her father promises that it’s necessary. Kylo Ren has great potential, such bloodlust and anger, raw strength, and a powerful blood line. A new Darth Vader, but without the weakness that ultimately led to his downfall. She doesn’t understand the importance of this, and Snoke has instructed her to study the histories, day, and night. The ancient battle of Sith and Jedi, of the light and the dark side of the Force, great battles and war generals, powerful Force users and legendary leaders, all bleeding through the generations to one Anakin Skywalker who embraced the dark side and became Darth Vader.

She leaves the histories and begins reading reports on her datapad, all she can learn about Kylo Ren. Jedi Killer. Member of the Knights of Ren. Force Warrior. Exceptional Pilot. Nothing more.

She searches her own name. Rey Snoke. Force sensitive. Adopted. Nothing more.

Suddenly she feels inadequate, and it’s any wonder her father has found another protégé. Of course, her father has said nothing comforting to quell her jealousy, in fact he almost encourages it.

Which leaves Rey with an abundance of anger and frustration and no outlet to channel it through. So, she trains. Hard. She’s put all her training weapons out of action, and the sparring room is undergoing repairs for the seventh time and the simulation droids have been hacked to pieces. She’s moved on from her lessons flying her father’s command shuttle and can pilot a TIE fighter – escorted, with weapons and hyperdrive disabled. The exhilaration of hurtling through space with tremendous speed and force satisfies her need to be away from the monstrous size of her father’s ship – where she knows every window, every door, every officer onboard and their shoe size. The restlessness returns the moment her TIE touches down and her feet hit the deck. It used to be control with power, power with grace, but her mantra is stifled by another uncomfortable awareness that she trapped. Contained. Afraid.

Kylo Ren is waiting for her, a looming, inescapable, black-clad, masked monster teetering at the edges of the hangar floor. She can feel his eyes follow her movement as she climbs out of the cockpit, her feet finding the floor, and her spherical astromech droid ejects itself from the plane and rolls away. He’s standing part way between the blast doors and the turbo-lift, prepared for whichever path she will take.

Despite her scheduled flight training ending, her pilot escorts having left for the change of shift, and her exhaustion at being subject to incredible g-forces in her manoeuvres, all she wants to do is jump right back in the cockpit and hurtle out into black space, far from her confines and frustration.

It’s tempting.

With a defeated sigh, she begins her slow walk towards the turbolift, eyes downcast, seeing him shift in her peripheral vision to cross her path.

“Milady,” he greets curtly.

“Rey is fine,” she’s so irritated she’s prepared to do away with formalities.

“Lady Rey,” he compromises. Ever the gentleman. Close enough.

“Shouldn’t you be training with the Supreme Leader?” Rey queries, and he falls into step beside her as they cross the floor and enter the lift.

He stiffens slightly but doesn’t answer, instead changing the subject. “There’s a gathering on Bardotta, a celebration and Supreme Leader has requested yourself and General Hux to attend to represent the First Order.”

“And he sends _you_ to deliver this message?” she cracks, her fury bleeding through her composure.

He looks straight ahead at the turbolift doors as they travel upwards. “I am to accompany you.”

She glares at him, then, but he doesn’t meet her gaze. She tries to imagine his expression beneath his mask, but it’s impossible, but she supposes that is the whole point of hiding one’s face. “Are you there as General Hux’s bodyguard or my babysitter?”

At the word ‘babysitter’, the Force shifts between them and she can feel the anger roll off him in waves as he crosses his arms.

The turbolift comes to a halt, the doors open, and he falters momentarily at the door, waiting for her to step out first. It smacks of derision and forced respect, but she doesn’t quite care enough to pull him up on it, because he might be one of her Father’s tools of terror, but he still shows a stubborn reverence for her position as the Supreme Daughter. She’s still not sure why, exactly, and again, doesn’t quite care enough to press the issue. She steps out of the lift first, and he follows, her boots click lightly on the floor, muffled by his heavy footfalls behind her.

“So, what did you do?” she implores. If she must spend a few days planet-side with him watching her every move, she wants to know why. They turn a corner, and she sees an entire terminal panel being disassembled for repair; burnt, hacked, and slashed with what she knows to be a laser sword, likely the one he carries on his belt.

“Quite the temper,” she says with a tsk. “You should be more mindful of your feelings.”

“You destroyed the training room and all the simulation droids, perhaps you should take your own advice,” he quips, and she stops dead in her tracks and looks up at him. Eyes locked, his hidden and full of dark mirth, hers frozen in surprise. A sense of humour?

They remain still for several long moments, while the maintenance staff work undisturbed on the melted terminal nearby.

“We leave at oh-four hundred,” he nods respectfully, and turns to leave. She watches him walk the other way, stiff with unbidden anger and his fists clenching. She wants to tell him that she’s just as displeased with the arrangements as he is, but by saying something she risks the trip altogether and _stars,_ she needs time away from the _Supremacy._

* * *

 

As the time nears oh-four-hundred, Rey is bouncing with excitement, a spring in her step as she sets about preparing for her trip. She leaves Tes to pack her case, and sprints down the hall to see her Father before she leaves. He wishes her a happy birthday, kisses her forehead, and tells her to trust her instincts. It’s the maximum level of affection he ever shows, and it occurs only once a year, since the day he came for her on Jakku.

_It’s my birthday,_ she muses, as she begins the long journey to hangar A. It’s the anniversary of the day she became his daughter, but she doesn’t like to mark it. It brings back memories of all the days preceding and it’s excruciating to reminiscence of all the times she was weak. One day, he says, she will return and have her revenge, kill everything tied to her past and complete her training.

For her journey she’s wearing a thin, black cotton dress with long sleeves, a high collar and a cowl wrapped around her shoulders. It hides her hair, which is twisted into her usual single braid. The hood falls low enough that she can easily turn to hide her face, something she insisted upon because she’s spending several hours in a confined space where she can’t simply walk away from _him_ if she feels like it.

Kylo Ren is waiting for her at the ramp into her father’s shuttle, but her eyes are drawn to another ship, a larger, more elegant craft of similar design. DX-4597 is behind her carrying her travel case and sees her look of curiosity. “It’s the Supreme Leader’s new shuttle Milady.”

“And what of his old one?” she queries.

“It’s yours, now, Milady,” Tes answers.

_My beautiful monster,_ Rey thinks, wistfully looking at the folded, jagged black wings of the shuttle that now belongs to her. _Pity._ It was meaningless to own the metal creature, when she was barely permitted to leave the Supremacy. Every time her feet touch the ramp, it’s as though it’s happening for the first time again, and she’s a little desert rat desperate to find her imaginary friend.

_“Your sentiment is your weakness, Daughter,”_ her father’s echoing voice thunders in her mind. _“Let it go or it will be your downfall.”_ She nods, and winces as his icy touch slices through her feelings and leaves them broken. She gives him what he wants and fills the void with all the hate she can muster, and when one of the maintenance staff steps into her path unexpectedly, she Force pushes him out of the shuttle, across the hangar floor and into the wall on the far side. In the shocked silence of the entire hangar, she hears his head hit the wall with an audible crack, the Force shifts with a feather-light shudder, and she knows he’s dead.

The rest of the maintenance staff hurriedly finish their work, and exit the shuttle at speed, giving her a wide berth.

Tes is visibly upset but says nothing, and DX-4597 is blissfully apathetic to her outburst, like a good stormtrooper should be. When Rey takes her seat, she steals a glance at Kylo Ren, whose expression she can’t see nor gauge because of his kriffing mask. She can’t help but narrow her eyes at the enigmatic Force warrior and she’s certain she must look like a sulking little girl glaring at her custodian.

He cocks his head indiscernibly, then looks back at the carnage she has caused, then, with a wave of his gloved hand, the ramp closes with the smooth, mechanical precision she has come to appreciate. She can still feel her father sensing, feeling for her presence and she closes her eyes to meditate, letting wave after wave of darkness wash over, penetrating, and cold, so cold.

He seems satisfied, and withdraws from her mind, and she shivers. She doesn’t feel when the ship takes off, nor when it enters lightspeed. But she feels when a warm, soft weight presents itself on her shoulders and wraps around her small frame. She breathes deeply and opens her eyes just in time to see Kylo Ren return to his seat, and there’s a dark grey blanket around her. His mask is discarded and sitting on the seat next to him, adjacent to hers.

“Thank you,” she says simply.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, not meeting her gaze.

She finds it hard to reconcile his erratic behaviour. Then she notices that they are seated alone, with Tes opting to sit in the cockpit with the pilots, and DX4597 in the main cargo area with the rest of his squadron. They’ve all kept their distance from her, and a harsh epiphany hits her with a wave of guilt. Kylo is not the dangerous one aboard this ship.

She knows that DX-4597 would say that all First Order staff should know their place, and if they forget their place, then execution is deserved.

She knows that Tes will likely scold her, telling her that her position holds her to a higher standard, and that composure must be maintained, as all great past leaders have possessed this attribute.

She knows that her Father will shower her with praise and encouragements.

But Kylo Ren says nothing. But he _had_ removed his helmet, for the second time, for her.

She’s still barely present, still entuned with the Force, and she reaches out towards him. He doesn’t look, and he doesn’t move, instead opting for staring towards the cockpit and away from her. She persists, until finally he reciprocates. He turns and meets her gaze, his piercing dark eyes equal parts curious and accusing. She can feel it. The pain and hurt and betrayal that fuel his fire, determination and desire, passion, and purpose. Power with grace.

“We’re the same,” she whispers. He latches onto her words like an Arzidi tentacle-bush and he, too, reaches for her with the force, strong yet impassive. There’s tendrils of bright red incandescent light around them, invisible to all others.

“So it would seem.” Is all he says, snapping the connection shut.

She throws up a wall around her mind, imagining a jagged, rocky mountain slope. She shouldn’t trust him, she barely knows him, and she just _knows_ how she will be punished if her Father finds out she’s developed an attachment. The light inside her is screaming for connection, for friendship with Kylo, but she needs to keep it in check. Sentimentality is weakness.

She can’t look at him anymore, with his exposed handsome face and thoughtful eyes, so she brings her legs up to her chest, curling into a ball and rests her head on her knees. Hiding. _Very mature,_ she chastises herself.

Hours later, the ship lurches out of hyperspace, and she wakens.

Tes emerges from the cockpit and comes dutifully to her Lady’s side, hairbrush in hand as she tidies her sleep-mussed hair, stows the discarded blanket, and touches up Rey’s makeup. She wishes Kylo wasn’t present for the show, but thankfully he’s hidden behind his mask again and is waiting for her at the rear of the shuttle. When she joins him, he doesn’t fall into step behind her, like usual. It’s another long ten minutes before the shuttle enters the atmosphere and another ten before they land. The ramp opens with hissing steam, red lights juxtaposed against the daylight streaming in. Kylo Ren strides down the shuttle before her, and she realises, slowly, that they’re entering somewhere new and he’s surveying the area for her safety. It had been barely weeks since the Knights of Ren had liberated the planet from Republic rule and, to him, it was still a war zone.

They are greeted by several squadrons of stormtroopers, and a handful of First Order officers and Bardottan delegates. Kylo steps aside and stays close behind her, and she walks with the practised grace that Tes has taught her, greeting General Chesbri first. He is a greying, seasoned war general loyal to her father and their cause. “Lady Snoke, it is a pleasure to see you again, we are honoured by your presence.”

“It is good to see you, General,” she doesn’t smile, as he bows and offers his hand. She takes it and he leads her to the Bardottans. They are a reptilian species with long, curved necks and pointed skulls with beak-like snouts, but there are also humans among them. General Chesbri introduces them one by one, and they each bow in turn, with rehearsed greetings and some with false veneration. One of them, she takes note, is a very tall Bardottan called Chieftain Yentisch, who is of the religious order with whom occupational negotiations have failed. She wants very much to learn more about the religious order who worships the Force.

General Chesbri’s deputy, Lieutenant Kuesh, the most nervous of the group, and it is he who is tasked with leading the _Supremacy_ guests to their accommodations. They are staying in the capital, a vibrant, populated city made with yellowed stone bricks and adorned by immaculate gardens, high-flying flags and bordered by a lush, green forest on one side, and a deep blue ocean on the other. The citadel was the home of the former monarchy, and now houses the military leadership. The entire city buzzes with life and movement and is littered with white stormtrooper helmets and patrolling TIE fighters.

Kuesh leads them to the royal chambers, where her room has been prepared. Kylo Ren pushes ahead of her, surveying the room as she enters. Safe, he must have decided, before going to the balcony. She follows him and looks at the breathtaking view of the city, the forest, and the sea. She closes her eyes, and feels the force of all the living, moving things, and it’s beautiful. Her quiet contemplation is interrupted as she can feel his eyes on her again, from beneath his mask, giving her a measured stare. Judging? Evaluating? He’s too hard to read most of the time and she barely disguises a frustrated eye-roll as she turns to go back inside.

Kuesh shows Kylo Ren an adjacent room, for the Supreme Daughter’s bodyguard.

She snorts in derision at the Lieutenant’s assessment, earning her three questioning looks from Tes, Kylo and Kuesh. She doesn’t need a bodyguard. DX-4597 places her travel case at the foot of the bed and leaves to stand guard outside the door with the rest of his squadron. Rey adores the irrelevance of her favourite stormtrooper.

Rey assesses her current position, and finds that although it’s beyond wonderful to see, feel and smell nature for the first time in many months – she’s still trapped. Still entombed by her protectors, her insufferable handmaiden, her father’s whispers, and her duty to the First Order.

It’s such a nice day, a chill in the breeze but warm in the sun. She tosses her cloak aside and turns to leave the room, while Kylo Ren is distracted by his own lodgings, out of sight. “I’m just going for a walk,” she says softly to Tes. She quickly strides from the room before he can follow her and takes the most obvious path she can find through the halls of the citadel, looking for a way out. She’s not sure whether she wants to explore the beach, or the forest first, and decides she’ll let the Force guide her. She can hear the stormtroopers marching after her, her ever-present guard, and she makes a choice she knows she’s going to get in trouble for later, but it’s just _too good_ to resist. She runs for the nearest footbridge and leaps over the rail guard, falling several stories to the streets below. She rebounds off a wall, grabs hold of a jutted brick and uses the Force to slow her decent, tumbling into a roll and running through the crowded streets. Her sudden aerial appearance shocks onlookers, but soon she’s lost in the crowd and the witnesses are far behind. She can hear the shouts and synchronised footfalls of her guard up high, panicked at losing her.

She laughs then, an unusual sound that she doesn’t make often, and she takes a corner, and another and another, running for almost a mile until she can see the ocean. She runs along the sandy beach, feet sinking in the sand with each leap, water lapping at the hem of her dress, and _stars it’s glorious!_

The sun is warm, but the breeze is harsh and the water freezing but she simply doesn’t care, letting the Force flow as she runs, giving her speed and exhilaration. When she reaches the end of the sandbar, there’s an outcropping of rocks and she climbs up the cliff face, higher and higher until she’s perched at the highest rock, the ocean a vast expanse before her and the city’s edge a distance away.

She’s panting from the exertion, and she sits cross-legged, trying to contain her adrenaline and slow her breathing. She reaches out with the Force, feeling for all the connected living, breathing, thriving creatures on this planet. It’s intoxicating and high, peaceful, and balanced. Everything falls into nothingness and she loses herself in the energy around her, straying out of thought and time.


	4. Part One - The Pull to the Light

**REY POV**

An infinity passes, the dimming light clearing to show a star-streaked sky. She sits there, in deep mediation, for several hours until he finds her. She can sense him long before he’s upon her. She’s enveloped in the light, and his darkness hits her in the back like flame to a flower, and she winces, doubling over with a tear-filled gasp.

“Did you enjoy yourself while the entire battalion turned the city over looking for you?”

The sun is setting behind them and his shadow covers her seated form. The euphoria is gone, and she lets the darkness fill the space in her heart once more. It’s quick and seductive, his presence makes it easy to stoke the blaze. But she finds herself so exhausted, then, and she looks back at the city in the distance. She’s run so far; the sky is a different colour over there. Finding her inner balance and wallowing in its rapture for so long has taken its toll and she doesn’t think she can muster the energy to stand or explain herself.

“Can you feel it?” she whispers, hearing the black ocean crash against the rocks beneath her. The Force is strong here, stronger than she’s felt in a long time. A pinnacle of light built upon so much death below. She wants to lean forward, to fall to the rocks below and become one with the Force, in death. She crawls forward, teetering on the edge, tiny rocks falling to blackness when her hand clutches the loose earth. It would be so easy, she thinks, and then there would be no pain. A strong arm loops around her middle and pulls her away from the edge.

“You don’t want this,” he says softly, and she suddenly she’s clouded with doubt, and she knows he’s used the mind trick on her.

_Sithspit!_ She slumps in defeat. _Kriffing Son of a sleemo bantha!_

“Anything else?” he asks lightly.

“Get out of my head,” she snaps.

“As you wish,” he answers simply, releasing her struggling form now she’s safely away from the ledge. “Will that be all, Lady Rey?”

His calm and collected demeanour is so insufferable, she summons whatever fury she can muster and pushes a surge of force in his direction. It hits him, and he takes a controlled step backwards, which only enrages her further. It would be so satisfying to see him flying backwards, but he denies her that too, waiting patiently for her next attack. There’s an ocean inside her mind and it’s deeper and blacker than the one waiting at the cliff’s bottom, she’s drowning in it and revelling in the icy darkness – it’s so enthralling and she thinks, in her rage and despair she could stay there forever. Then she stumbles as the ground rumbles and a crack shoots through the rock between her and Kylo Ren, and the trees begin to shudder. The broken earth replicates a crack in her soul and a sliver of light shines in.

_I’ve gone too far_. She turns and starts walking, breathing deeply, and imagining that she’s clawing back through the ocean to reality with each step.

His eyes are trained on her, and his long strides are slow to match her smaller ones, two steps behind and to her left, like always. DX-4597 and his squad are waiting at the base of the cliff, and bless him, he’s holding her cloak, no doubt at Tes’ insistence. She reaches out with the Force, an invisible tug that crosses the expanse between them, and calls the fabric to her hands, donning the cloak in a single, smooth motion without missing a step. She draws the hood as far over her head as she can, hiding her face. Her childish face. Too young to be taken seriously. Too young to foresee the consequences of her actions. Old enough to know the sting of regret.

There’s a group of speeder bikes waiting where the grass meets the sand, one of them hovering at the centre of the group, unattended, and she feels Kylo Ren give her a tiny force nudge towards it, a faint invisible push on her back, and she steps up to the land vehicle at the middle of the formation. She climbs onto the back of the bike, curling into herself in humiliation, hiding tears beneath her hood.

The rest of the stormtroopers board their speeder bikes in pairs, ready to escort the Supreme Daughter back to the city. Kylo Ren wordlessly climbs into the driver’s seat in front of her, and she grudgingly scoots closer to wrap her arms around his middle, holding on as they take off across the beach towards the city, leaving disrupted sand in their wake.

It’s not long before they reach the city, and follow the stone-paved roads to the palace. Once they reach the steps of the citadel, the speeders come to an abrupt halt, and she lightly bumps her head against his back. In one fluid movement, he climbs off the land speeder, and she follows suit, only to find her legs shaking with exhaustion once her feet find solid ground.

The citadel is swarmed with military personnel, who stand at attention when she comes their way, and she stops at the foot of the massive series of steps that lead up to the main building, knowing there’s at least a hundred steps to the top, but her burning muscles scream that it’s going to feel like a thousand.

She stands there for a minute before comes to her side, offering a gloved hand. She kriffing hates him right now but is simply too tired to do anything about it, and he knows it. She sullenly takes his hand and he leads her up the steps, feeling a surge of energy come from him, giving her strength when her fatigue threatens to take over. In her weakened state, she considers the raw power she can feel emanating from him – and is reminded of their hours-long journey to the planet earlier that day.

_We’re the same,_ she had said.

The same colour and texture, the same raw strength, the same pain, the same conflict. Even he had submitted to her assessment.

_I wasn’t going to kill myself,_ she insists, unsure if he’s still probing the surface of her mind.

He doesn’t respond, just keeps her steady as she climbs the last of the steps and walks towards a small group of officers waiting for her. General Chesbri is among them. “My lady, you had us all so worried.”

“If the First Order’s control of Bardotta falls apart because the honoured guest takes a walk, then I have little confidence in your command, General,” she says lightly with intended humour. The rest of the officials chuckle at her, and the tension dissipates.

“Did you enjoy your walk, Milady?” Chieftain Yentisch asks politely. He’s one of the Bardottans who met her on the landing platform, a tall fellow, pale blue and wearing ceremonial robes. The Force is strong with him, she notes, and asserts that she can manipulate this man, perhaps to the First Order’s advantage, and to satisfy her own thirst for knowledge about the religious sect that worships the Force. She brings forth her sweetest smile and drops Kylo Ren’s hand to reach for the elderly Bardottan’s, “I did, Sir. And your planet is very beautiful, the Force is balanced here. I would very much like to see more of it tomorrow.” She pushes the suggestion to the forefront of his feeble mind and he nods in agreement.

“Tomorrow you will see more of our beautiful planet.”

His companions mumble in agreement.

With that, she leaves and finds Kylo Ren waiting for her at the turbo-lift. With each step, she feels her vision start to blur at the edges, but she walks straight and true, with her head held high, until the moment the lift doors close. Then she crumbles into a heap. He’d been anticipating her collapse for some time and is prepared when it happens, catching her before she falls and scooping her into his arms, as gently as he can, letting her head rest on his shoulder. She can’t reconcile the so-called Jedi-killer, this dark force Warrior who slaughters at the Supreme Leader’s whim – with the gentle giant who stops her at cliffs edge and catches her when she falls.

She slips in and out of awareness as the lights above her change from the white of the lift to the softer yellow hue of the high-ceiling hallway that leads to the Queen’s chambers. She rests her head on his shoulder and grips the edge of his fraying cloak. _We’re the same._

She decides that she doesn’t hate him.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, voice distorted behind his mask. She can feel his words reverberate through his chest.

“Get out of my head,” she tells him once more, smacking him lightly in the chest, before succumbing to her utter exhaustion, and sleep takes her.

* * *

**KYLO POV**

The handmaiden, Tes, offers her assistance but he shoos her away. “She just needs to rest,” he insists. He uses the Force to open the doors to her chamber, and seals them shut behind him. With a motion of his fingers, the covers on her bed open to accept the sleeping form and he lays her gently down, removes her boots and pulls the covers back up, tucking them around her small frame.

He’s intrigued by the tiny girl, just turned fourteen, with the air and graces of a woman beyond her years, as well-spoken as her Father and wielding power she was only beginning to understand. He can’t reconcile this pretty young noble diplomat with the petulant child who speaks out of turn, misuses her powers, and loses her temper.

But then, she thought they were one of the same, and in the enclosed command shuttle, in proximity with her heightened emotions that embarrassingly clouded his own judgement, he had agreed. For better or worse, he could not yet be sure, but as the hours wore on, he found that in lying to appease the girl, he had unwittingly discovered a truth. Funny that, how she could be so damn insightful for one so immature and unconcerned by potential betrayal and the consequences of her claims.

“Perhaps we are,” he muses quietly to himself, so soft that the vocabulator in his helmet barely picks up the sound.

 

Was he not prone to outbursts of anger? Had he not known hurt and betrayal? And when he’d seen her teetering at the cliff’s edge in the throes of death’s temptation, did he not see a little of his younger self?

He removes a single glove and hovers near her temple, pushing ever so gently into her mind, wondering if his suspicions were erroneous. Was it so wrong to care for the wellbeing of the Supreme Leader’s only daughter? He delicately prods around, careful not to leave footprints, searching through her memories, thoughts, and feelings, unsure of what he’s looking for. He sees the first time they met, from her perspective, as she Force-trips the Knights of Ren in front of her father, then speaks out of turn. He sees her lessons with her father later that day, and the punishment for her insolence. She’s convulsing with the shock of electricity from her enraged father, and it almost brings tears to his eyes. He knows what that level of punishment feels like, he’s felt the consequences of failure, but to be inflicted on one so young? But afterwards, he’s surprised to find that she’s remarkably unaffected by the ordeal, because, because she knows she’s made of stronger stuff than everyone thinks, and she knows being the Supreme Daughter holds with it responsibilities and higher standards. Now he feels intrusive and understands the hostility of what he’s doing.

Get out of my head, she had said earlier.

He withdraws slowly from the recesses of her mind, and she visibly relaxes when he does. When he had first introduced himself to Lady Rey, he had thought to gain her favour, with the notion that if he could show reverence to the girl, it would please his master in turn. Being outside of her mind gives him a new perspective for everything he felt within. She really connects with him, finds solace in the Force he emits, admires his abilities, finds him handsome, even. He wants to live up to his grandfather’s legacy, but Lady Rey thinks he can do better.

He walks to his adjoining room in silence, closing the door behind him and removing his mask. He decides he will try to live up to her expectations. For both their sake.

* * *

**REY POV**

It’s hours before sunrise and Rey emerges from the ‘fresher, hair damp and tangled, dressed in plain clothes, barefoot and feeling a bit more human. She’d woken with stiff muscles, dirty hair, sand between her toes and smelling of the sea, now she felt a little more like herself. The blessed service droids have changed her sand-riddled sheets while she was in the ‘fresher and she climbs upon the new linen with her datapad in hand, and a holonet screen open across the window. She puts her earpiece in and listens to the news, while skimming through reports until she finds the ones she’s been looking for. The invasion of Bardotta.

She spends hours reading mission reports whilst listening to the holonews in the background, only really paying attention to the important stories, and tuning out for the replays of the High Command’s twice daily speeches, except for those by General Hux. She pays particular attention to every word Hux says. Knowledge is the second most potent of powers, after the Force. If she’s going to be spending any amount of time with the highest-regarded official in the First Order, then she must know how to manipulate him if necessary to get what she wants, and she knows that most men will melt to her whims with a batting of eyelashes, a sweet smile, heavy flattery, and a well-articulated conversation – but that doesn’t mean Hux is cut from the same cloth as his colleagues.

When the stars begin to disappear and the day’s first light creeps over the ocean, she’s thoroughly appraised with the state of affairs on Bardotta and has a plan for every possibility for the next four days. The Republic holonews continues with a report of the Resistance General Organa, and Rey turns her attention to the report. She knows that name but knows very little about the woman behind it.

She searches the Resistance General’s name in the info cache and comes up with generic data, and instead goes searching for related Senate reports and news articles. One comes up, almost ten years old. The woman looks decades younger. War, perhaps, aged her quicker than most. Rey reads the article with severe curiosity. A gossip column that scolds the Senator for lies and deceits, claiming her to be the daughter of the late Darth Vader. Rey breathes heavily, her heart thumping in her ears as realisation hits her. The leader of the Republic-supported Resistance is their enemy, and was Darth Vader’s daughter. And Darth Vader’s grandson is sleeping in the very next room. Kylo Ren, Ben, was, is, General Organa’s son.

She drops her datapad and it falls off the bed with a loud thud, the holonews report disappearing along with it. “Kriff,” she swears, and hears the door open. She looks up and sees Kylo standing in the doorway, lightsaber drawn but not yet lit. He’d heard the noise and assumed she was in danger. “Sorry I just dropped my datapad, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He’s wearing only black, loose fitted sleeping pants, his hair is mussed and his helmet somewhere in his room, forgotten. She averts her eyes and feels a blush forming on her cheeks as she returns her attention to the rolling holonews.

“You should be resting,” he says, neither an order nor a suggestion. It’s pleasant to hear his real voice, not the one augmented by his monstrous helmet.

“I am perfectly rested, thank you,” she replies earnestly. “I was about to climb onto the roof and watch the sun rise.”

He considers her agreeable demeanour and gives a nod of approval. “Be careful.”

Then he disappears back into his room. She returns to her datapad and deletes her search history and viewing cache. She doesn’t think he will take it lightly if he finds out she’s been snooping on him.

She goes to the balcony and climbs onto the roof with practiced agility and settles herself into a nook at the topmost spire. She crosses her legs and reaches out with the Force, finding her inner strength, the darkness, flooded with light as the sun bleeds over the horizon, reflecting pink and gold off the ocean’s surface. The ocean in her mind is a mirror image of the one before her, and she closes her eyes, reaching out to all the living things on the planet. She can feel the stirring population of the city, and the insects feeding off the morning dew on the grass, and the birds in the forest flitting from treetop to treetop, happabores feeding on pastures and beyond that, mountains of rock and ice just teeming with life.

It’s all so light and wonderful until she feels an icy grip around her neck. She panics and almost falls, gripping the edges of the alcove _. “This is not balance, Daughter,”_ she hears her Father’s voice in her mind as his grip tightens. _“This is the romantic lie of the light. It won’t save you.”_

The alcove cracks and crumbles beneath her. She desperately reaches for the darkness, fumbling for anything to stop her from falling, and the first thing she finds is Kylo Ren. He senses her panic, and the presence of the Supreme Leader in her mind, and knows immediately what she needs, grabbing hold of her tendrils of light and pulling them down into the darkness, where she belongs. “I’m sorry Father, it won’t happen again,” she says to empty air, as she feels her Father withdraw his grip.

_“Remember what I have taught you. The Darkness is where you will find your power. Don’t throw it all away for the dreamy pull of the light. It will always be there, but you must resist it.”_

“Yes, Father.”

Several long minutes pass, and her father is gone, but Kylo Ren is still holding onto her edges, keeping her mind centred in the dark, although her body is warmed in the light of the rising sun.

_“Are you alright?”_ she can feel Kylo speak in her mind, just like her father, but with unveiled concern.

“Yes,” she whispers, tears tracking down her cheeks.

_“Come inside.”_

She carefully moves around the crumbling brick and finds the tops of the vines where the balcony is, sliding down the pitched roof and free-falling momentarily before swinging and flipping onto the balcony. She stumbles right into Kylo, and it’s like hitting a black-clad brick wall. He smells like soap and fresh-ironed clothes and he’s wearing his kriffing helmet again.

“I could hear your voice in my head. I didn’t know you could do that,” she looks up at him in disbelief, wiping her tear tracks with her sleeve.

“You can’t?”

“My father tried to teach me, but – I’m not very good at it,” she says with a shrug.

“Perhaps your talent lies elsewhere,” he says simply.

She goes inside where Tes is waiting. The droids have laid out a breakfast in the settee and Tes has her clothes ready for the day. “Not that one,” she tells Tes, looking at the constricted dress. “Chieftain Yentisch is taking me sightseeing today and I need to be able to move,” she holds up the corset, “and breathe.”

“Yes, of course, Milady.”

Rey notes that there is enough breakfast for two, there are two plates and two cups laid out. She looks to the open door of the adjacent room and sees that there is only a bedroom and a ‘fresher – no sitting room. But Kylo had only ever removed his helmet when they were alone together.

“Leave us,” she tells Tes sharply, and the handmaiden walks out of the room without question, with the droids in tow, closing the doors behind her.

Rey serves herself a steaming mug of hot caf, and a pastry and some fruit, before sitting cross legged on the couch and flicking the holonews onto the viewscreen. Kylo stands aside and doesn’t sit down until she motions for him to do so.

“Eat,” she says, and at his hesitation, “I can make it an order if that makes you more comfortable.”

She gives him a sideways glance when he removes his helmet but returns her attention to the holonews. She’s watching the same reports looping from hours beforehand but keeps focussed on the familiar images because it eases the tension in the room. He’s visibly relaxed in her presence, and it’s a nice reprieve from the stiff, looming monster always two steps behind her.

With a ‘ping’, a holo message pops up on her viewscreen. It’s the High Command’s early report. She wonders who it is this time. “Ten credits says it’s Hux,” she says between mouthfuls. “With a bolstering report of success on Poras Knox.”

“General Bysma, Geonosis,” he replies, deadpan with subdued amusement.

It’s neither Hux nor Bysma, and, disappointed, Rey ignores the unnamed General’s report. They eat in relative silence, with Kylo listening intently to the long-winded report, and Rey notices his jaw stiffen when the General mentions the Knights of Ren.

“You’d rather be out there with them,” she says.

“I should have been.”

“But you got landed with child-minding?”

He looks at her, then, and the mood changes instantly.

“Was it something you did?” she asks carefully, “Or does my Father not trust me?”

He’s calculating in his answer, and from all her prior observations, he’s an economical man who never says one word more than necessary. “Both.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry for whatever part I played in that,” she says.

“Your actions yesterday don’t encourage support for your independence.”

“I know I was foolish, I just felt so trapped, that finally I was planet-side and I just needed to… run,” she finishes lamely. “I can’t explain it.”

“You’ve been aboard the Supremacy too long. Extended space travel affects everyone differently. Stormtroopers are required to rotate every six months.”

“I doubt that my Father is likely to loosen his grip any time soon,” her fingers graze the tender skin at her neck, she can feel a bruise forming and thinks she might ask Tes to apply makeup in case it starts to show.

“The Supreme Leader is wise,” Kylo says with certainty, “If you want to be free from confinement, then show him that you can be trusted, that his lessons are worth his time. You are also an asset to the First Order, I see potential in you.”

“And I in you,” she smiles a little.

Kylo’s lip curls ever slightly at the corners, and she thinks he might almost smile back at her, but the expression is fleeting and gone as quickly as it came. There’s something in his eyes, affection? Devotion? Pity? She doesn’t have time to analyse him because there’s a knock at the door and Kylo’s mask is back on as he goes to investigate. He collects his cloak from the hangar near the door and leaves, as Tes and the service droids enter. Tes comes in with a pale blue cloth in her hands. “This, Milady,” she says with pride, “Will work well for you, today.”

It’s a pale blue dress made of Bardottan silk that reminds her of the Bardottan species lightest skin tone and is reminisce of the traditional robes worn by the priestesses. If her research and knowledge and powers of persuasion couldn’t bring the religious sect back into the fold, then surely her appearance would.

Almost an hour later, Tes almost has tears in her eyes with pride of her work. Lady Rey is dressed in a pale blue dress that exposes her midriff and back, but covers her upper and lower halves modestly, with a blue scarf that covers the top half of her hair, with brunette curls tumbling out and down her chest. The skirt is sheer and delicate, falling to her feet, and she’s wearing pale grey boots to match. Tes wanted her to wear Bardottan sandals she found at the market yesterday, but Rey insisted they were no good for _running._ Tes couldn’t understand what Rey would possibly need to run for, Rey couldn’t understand why anyone would risk being caught unawares in unsuitable footwear.

Tes powdered her face as usual, but drew more delicate lines beneath her eyes, and a light blue eye makeup that complimented her eyes and the colour of her dress. Rey appraises her reflection, with light colours and soft makeup, and remembers her father’s words. _The light is a romantic lie._ And she dives back into her ocean of darkness. The necessity to lower herself to such depths of shallow insignificance as looking the most beautiful and dressing the part – just instilled how much she felt like she couldn’t trust anyone. Except maybe Kylo.

She finishes the look with a light grey embroidered shawl, the same colour as her boots, and she strides down the hall with all the confidence she can muster, with DX-4597 and his squad in tow. Kylo Ren is waiting for her at the elevator. He hands her a small communication device. She recognises it as a tracker commlink.

“Subtle,” she quips, clipping it to the top of her boot, under her dress out of sight.

“I don’t trust Yentisch.”

“I don’t trust anyone on this kriffing rock.”

He throws her another incomprehensible look from beneath his mask, and she smiles back as the elevator doors close.

 


	5. Part One: Vision at the Temple

They travel in an escorted speeder, and Chieftain Yentisch shows her the cultural side of Bardotta, the arts and music, the schools, and dramatic landscapes. She sees the light of life everywhere but remains with her roots deep in the dark. Her throat is still pained and constricted from the early morning, and she doesn’t want to feel icy fingers around her neck again any time soon. Yentisch goes on and on about the ways of the Bardottans, the Dagoyan Order and their spiritualist ways.

“You see, Milady, we were a peaceful planet,” he treads carefully, wary of her dark protector in the back seat. “Until the First Order arrived.”

“Until the First Order liberated you from the lies and treachery of the Republic,” she insists, “Surely you must see that.”

“I know better than to defy the masters occupying our beautiful planet,” he concedes. “But, no I don’t share your view on such matters. And neither do many of the Dagoyan Order.”

“I appreciate, Chieftain Yentisch, that your relationship with the Force is neither light nor dark. That you seek harmony and knowledge above power. I understand it, and I admire the peaceful ways of your people. There are many in the galaxy who do not believe in the Force, and _that_ is a travesty I dearly wish I could correct.”

“In that, Milady, we have discovered common ground,” he praises.

“Then I wish to learn all I can to seek more common ground with your people,” she vows, allowing sincerity to bleed through her Force, enough for him to feel it, before she cemented herself back in the icy blackness. “I would very much like to visit your temples in the mountains.”

“If that is your wish,” he veers off course and heads west towards the mountains in the distance. “But I’m afraid your companion will not be welcome inside.”

“Why is that?”

She feels the tension rolling off Kylo in waves, as the conversation takes a dangerous turn.

“For one, we don’t allow killers or weapons inside our temple. It is our sacred place. And, because I’m afraid your compatriot slaughtered thousands of our people-”

“Very well,” she cuts him off short.

_“Lady Rey,”_ she hears Kylo’s threatening voice in her mind. She doesn’t know how to communicate back, instead shows him what she knows of the Dagoyan temples, that they are unarmed, peaceful priests and priestesses. She also shows him a memory of her strapping a thin vibrodagger to her upper thigh when she had dressed earlier that morning, and the memory of him giving her the commlink. She tries to show him what his havoc has wreaked upon the planet, and that with a little of her persuasion she might be able to bring about a treaty that will bring the Dagoyan Order back into the fold and quell any Republic sympathies. With the support of the entire Bardottan system behind the First Order, they can re-open trade routes and establish a relationship that will last generations, if they tread carefully and respectfully hereafter. She hears him sigh. _“Be careful.”_ She turns away and rolls her eyes.

It is an hour-long journey to the mountain temple, and she tries her best to enlighten Yentisch on the First Order beyond militarisation.

“The First Order stands for law and control, where the people will thrive in security and safety. The Republic system is one that benefits the few, not the many. Those high-born or with money are rewarded simply for luck of who their parents were and the Core planet they were born on. My father has a vision for the galaxy, and we intend to make it reality. While the Republic Senate have enquiries and committees, they take months to decide on whether to vote to make a choice, meanwhile the slave trade is booming, and children are starving on the mid-rim. Tell me, Chieftain, how suffering and injustice fits into your peaceful philosophy.”

“And the First Order intends to eradicate slavery with subjugation?”

“The First Order intends to eradicate all of the old ways. For millennia the galaxy has been governed democratically, and for what? So, the rich and powerful are comfortable in their luxury cruisers with the nicest clothes and best whore’s money can buy, with the underworld drowning in spice and child prostitution, with a little King in every corner to make sure the rich stay that way, and the less fortunate pave the way at the cost of their innocence and in most cases, their lives.”

“And when the battle is won, Milady, when the galaxy is under the Supreme Leader’s rule… the little Kings, as you call them, will be replaced with little Commanders and what will be in place to stop the corruption you so abhor?”

She places a hand on the Chieftain’s shoulder then. “When people like you and I are there to keep them in check.” His eyes glaze over then, when he spares her a glance from the pilot’s seat, before returning his attention to the landscape around them. She smirks proudly as she can sense Yentisch is wrapped around her little finger.

“Milady you speak with wisdom beyond your years,” Yentisch compliments.

She takes the praise with the intended sincerity and presents a humbled front. “I’m a keen observer.”

The temple is an ancient structure built into the mountainside, shrouded by fog and cold, so very cold. It’s easier to bury her soul in the dark side when she is cold, inside, and out. She’s been so planted there for hours that Kylo has stopped reaching out to check on her. She’s not sure why he does it, if to save her from her father’s wrath, or keep her in line, to escort her back to the _Supremacy_ unmarred and unaltered.

Her masked monster is left waiting at the temple entrance, arms crossed and scowling as Yentisch leads her into the temple. The moment she enters, she feels a power wash over her that she hasn’t experienced before, ancient, potent, and entrancing. Yentisch notices her wonder and placidity – “You can feel the harmony, Milady?” She nods. “The Force is strong with you.”

A distant music echoes through her mind, a hauntingly beautiful melody, singing to her, beckoning. She hesitates then, thinking of her father’s icy touch at her throat, the feel of electricity surging through her core – if she doesn’t err on the dark side he will know. She feels Kylo Ren reach out to her again and brings her once more back to into the shadowy folds, and she scolds herself… she must find a way to resist the temptation of the light, because she knows he’s not always going to be there to assist – however comforting an idea that might be.

When she reaches the heart of the temple, there are several priests and priestesses there who welcome her. She takes in her surroundings of a large cavern with tall pillars etched into ancient stone, an alter with a large, weathered book, candles smoking gently giving off a pleasant aroma. They speak in their native language, she does her best to reciprocate.

_“Welcome, Lady Rey Snoke, to our sacred place. Chieftain Yentisch tells me you are Force sensitive, but not those of the mindless warriors who serve the Supreme Leader.”_

She cringes at that, they’re not mindless at all. If they _were,_ they wouldn’t be nearly as dangerous.

_“Thank you for your kind words. It is my wish to learn about the Dagoyan Order, to bring a peaceful resolution for the First Order occupation of Bardotta.”_

They begin discussions of philosophical differences, holy rituals, the Bardottans cultural connection with the Force, their thirst for knowledge and harmony. They rebuke the First Order’s appetite for destruction, to which she carefully justifies and tiptoes around – and she almost thinks she might pull the whole thing off. During the whole discussion, with Kylo wrapping her heart in darkness and her struggling to master the foreign tongue – she can still hear the distant singing in her mind.

The oldest Bardottan, a short, stout creature with pale blue skin, wrinkles and elongated claws regards her with hostility during the discussion and she reaches out to his mind. She’s not very skilled with invading minds but finds it easier with her connection to Kylo. She catches thoughts flitting at the surface of his consciousness. _Take her hostage. They will give us back control of our world._

Her fingertips graze the hilt of her dagger through the cloth of her dress. “I can see that those of the Dagoyan Order are wise, and I appreciate that we are able to speak under peaceful terms. But I think, not all of you welcomed me into your sacred place with peace talks in mind.”

Eyes flit to each other, some of confusion, others crestfallen, and six of them straightened their backs and their demeanours became visibly rigid and hostile. One of them is first to speak. “We are a peaceful society, and your First Order came and slaughtered thousands of law-abiding, non-violent Bardottans. You’ll forgive us, Milady, if we resort to uncongenial methods in response.”

“Which would be treason,” she retorts.

“Not according to _our_ laws,” another gestures to the large book laid open on the altar. “And you have no way of stopping us. Your bodyguard is locked safely outside. You have no weapons.”

“I have one, actually,” she seethes, and brings all six of them to their knees with the Force.

There is a commotion somewhere distant, a thud, screaming, and seconds later, her masked monster is there, with a gloved hand on her shoulder, his strong body pressed into her back with his lightsaber drawn, it’s red blade sizzling, as unstable and dangerous as its master. His stance is possessive and reeks of bloodlust.

The other priests protest his absence, but she ignores them, her focus on the six treasonous scum on their knees.

“Milady,” Yentisch implores her quietly. “I beg you, please don’t desecrate our Holy Temple with the blood of these misguided schemers.”

She hesitates, holding them frozen in place. “Chieftain, I came here to resolve the segregation of this society, to bring the Dagoyan Order back into the fold, to respect your religion and win the respect of the people of the Bardottan system. To re-open trade routes and have a peaceful occupation with no more _unnecessary_ bloodshed.”

“We are willing to negotiate, Milady,” one of the human priestesses, with long silver hair, pleads to her. “Violence and corruption are not _our_ ways.”

She hears tell-tale boots of stormtroopers enter the temple. “Arrest these men,” she points to the befallen priests. “Take them far from the temple and have them executed for treason.”

There are mumbled protests, to which she halts. “If anyone else would like to share their fate, please speak up.”

Silence.

“Yentisch, can you arrange to transport your representatives to the capital by this evening to begin negotiations?”

“Yes, Milady.”

They all file out of the room, leaving her alone with Kylo, his hand on her shoulder still, his grip softened. He extinguishes his lightsaber.

“Thank you, my friend,” she says sincerely, without turning to face him, reaching up to touch his fingers affectionately. “Would you leave me alone for a moment?”

He lingers momentarily before leaving her alone in the temple. There is a light shining through windows carved into the rock, and tiny dust particles dance in the streams of light. Without the shuffling of feet and the buzz of other minds present, she can hear it more clearly. The singing. Calling. Beckoning. The Force carries her through the temple, through the caverns and into a hallway littered with alcoves. Tiny lizards run along the walls, away from the intruder, treading softly, spellbound, and drawn inexplicably to the singing at the end of the passage – where a wooden chest lay beneath a frayed shroud. She pushes the cloth aside and runs her hands over the aged, dust covered chest, and opens it. The object inside is long, thin, and opaque white. She retrieves it from its place and holds it gently in her palms. The singing stops, and she can feel raw, untapped power within, glowing softly as it reaches out like a sentient creature and tethers itself to her mind and heart. This thing beholds her very soul, and she responds in kind, finding an endless pool of energy as if made especially for her, and tears escape her eyes in overwhelming passion.

She’s interrupted by a soft hand on her shoulder. She expects Kylo Ren, he’s always there, but it’s somebody else this time. Somebody unknown, touching her, seeing her weak, vulnerable. She flinches away and turns to find a young priestess, human, with a sweet smile and for a moment, Rey can see a little of herself in the girl. Same age. Same hair colour. Dressed in pale blue robes similar in colour to her dress. Rey hates the innocent girl for her foolish approach. Now she must die.

“You are the Lady Snoke,” she says, “I have heard so much about you.”

Rey doesn’t answer, instead she mirror’s the girls’ smile and reaches out with the Force for her immediate surroundings. No other souls nearby. A window past the second alcove. A seemingly endless drop into fog-drowned wilderness.

The girl gestures towards the object in Rey’s palms.

“This kyber crystal,” she says, reaching out to cradle Rey’s hands with her own. “It calls to you.”

Rey places the crystal back into its place inside the box.

“No, no,” the girl shakes her head and flashes another smile. “It is the will of the Force, it belongs to you now.” Then she does something unforgivable, as she pulls her sleeve down to wipe Rey’s tears from her cheeks. The façade of connection. Kindness. Love. Rey can feel the joy beaming from the girl, and she’s the embodiment of the beautiful, tempting lie of the Light.

“Thank you,” Rey says, and the girl turns slightly to retrieve the crystal from the box, with the notion of handing it to her personally. The moment she is distracted, Rey steps and turns, vibrodagger in hand, pulling the girl’s hair back, and slicing the girl’s throat open, in one swift move. Power with grace.

Not a sound but a whispered gurgle, scuffing as her body falls to the floor. Rey throws her limp form through the open window with the Force before the blood pools and makes a mess. She replaces the dagger in its sheath at her thigh, and steps into the drops of blood, rubbing them into the dirt making them indiscernible in the poor light.

She vows then that any living soul who witnesses her weakness will suffer the same fate. Her Father would prefer her _not_ to have weaknesses, but thinks he would appreciate the destruction, despite the motivation behind it. Of course, the only exception is Kylo Ren. She keeps finding reasons to make him an exception to her rules and list of people she hates.

Kylo is the last thing on her mind when her fingertips meet the crystal once more, and the whole world falls away in a blur as her mind is pulled apart, bare and raw as images flash through her mind.

_She sees herself as a young child on Jakku, a foolish scavenger waiting for her parents who aren’t coming back, but too stupid to accept it. She sees herself meeting Kylo Ren, remembering every time she looks at her, every time they touch. She sees herself fighting, training with warriors of unknown allegiance. She sees herself fighting with her father and bearing the brunt of his fierce power. Then, the vision shifts in a flash of red. She’s older now, a woman, hair pulled back tight, perfectly formed leather armour and swinging a saberstaff bright red just like Kylo’s. Then something else, something that stirs a fear deep inside her that she didn’t know existed. Her adult-self is kissing a de-masked Kylo Ren, their bodies tangled in passion, pulling each other closer and closer. “I love you,” her adult self says. “I know,” he replies huskily, eyes dark and hands grasping her possessively._

Rey is left gasping and heaving on the dirty floor, her mind feels like it’s been slammed into a rock wall after the vision ended bringing her back to reality. “How is this possible?” she rasps. How could it be possible to see things from the past, things that she desired, and things that had yet to come to pass? She had turned fourteen two days ago. She’s only recently come to terms with accepting the presence of the newest of her Father’s Knights, and was still wary of trusting him. But the crystal has shown her the future, one where she will accept Kylo Ren for everything that he is, for everything that he has and will do – and even grow to love him.

_Love!_ She panics. Love is compassion. Compassion is light. The light is a lie. If her father found out… _Oh gods!_ She’s hyperventilating now. If her father finds out he will kill Kylo. She doesn’t pretend to understand the Supreme Leader’s decisions, but she knows her father well enough that he would consider this the ultimate insult. The greatest betrayal. If she comes to love Kylo Ren, it will mean death for them both.

She stumbles to the nearest alcove and vomits with a violent shudder.

She knows she can stop it. Distance. Silence. If she never sees him, if she ensures their paths never cross, then her vision will not, cannot happen.

But how to stop Kylo from seeing her thoughts, how to stop her Father from pulling the vision from her mind. _Bury it,_ is the first instinct she has. She grabs the crystal desperately and closes her eyes, drawing on its power, this time, without interruption. _Build a wall._ She begins to imagine a wall being erected around herself, brick by brick. The longer she meditates, the stronger the wall becomes. Brick becoming stone. What was stone becomes a mountain. She meditates for an eternity, and then she feels _him._ His Force signature is like fire, and when he reaches out, it licks and spits at her, unstable and red like his lightsaber. She rebukes him, snapping their connection closed and throwing a wall up where he used to linger. It seems easier, holding her crystal. It really feels like it simply existed _for her._ Deep within her mountain in the recesses of her mind, beneath earth and rock, she buries her vision, and fills the cavity with all the hate she can muster. She thinks of the stupid priestess, of the traitorous members of the Dagoyan order, of every person who’s ever done her wrong, or so much as looked at her sideways. She thinks of every time she’s failed her father, and herself. She thinks back to Jakku, where she was raped as a child. She thinks of her parents who left her there, and she thinks of every sleepless, hungry, lonely night in that forsaken desert.

When she opens her eyes, her hands are shaking, and the power surging through the crystal is like adrenaline meets tenacity.

Then she tucks the crystal into the top of her knee-high boots and sees the commlink clipped there. She grabs the small device and brings it to her lips. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

She remembers throwing Kylo Ren from her mind with the ferocity she’d so desired since he’d blatantly overpowered her at the clifftop two nights ago. She can still feel him, distant and angry, pacing back and forth, carving up the rocks outside the temple with a guttural roar. She doesn’t even have to reach very far, because his feelings are raw and present, rushing through the temple caverns towards her. He’s lost the high ground, his ability to control her, bested by a teenage girl, and frustration at how, _how,_ did this happen?

He’s livid, lightsaber drawn and shoulders rising and falling with exertion, when she reaches the temple’s entrance. He extinguishes his lightsaber and takes three strides before he’s upon her, his hand raised. She steels herself and throws her walls up, unable to quell the instinctive flinch as she winces and closes her eyes, unsure whether he means to strike her or invade her thoughts. She knows which one she would prefer. Bruises heal. The pain of having her mind ripped apart, and the consequences that followed would forever haunt them both. He freezes, then, and his hand drops, but his stance is no less threatening. She opens her eyes and he’s so close she can see her own frightened expression reflected in the chrome on his helmet, eyes looking to see the gentle giant beneath the mask, pleading. _Don’t do this._

She can’t analyse the expression she can’t see, but she feels his conflict. It’s gone a moment later, and he turns back to their speeder. She looks and sees that they are alone, stormtroopers disappeared with the gruesome task of disposing of the traitors, Yentisch and other members of the Dagoyan Order already departed to the capital, young caretaker of the temple murdered with her broken corpse forever lost in the hidden ravine. Just Rey and her masked monster.

He takes the pilots seat in the speeder and starts the engine, waiting for her, without turning or speaking. She slowly and wordlessly climbs into the passenger seat, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders and head, covering part of her face so she doesn’t have to look at him. He hesitates from taking off, and she turns to find him looking her up and down. She looks at her dress and sees for the first time what he’s seeing. Pale blue, bedraggled and dirty and covered in blood.

He had no idea what had happened, and now, he had no way of prying that information from her if she wasn’t willing to give it. It was driving him mad.

“I’m fine,” she looks away. “It’s not my blood.”

Then he takes off, at speed, and she’s surprised that despite his dangerous speed and his ill-placed rage, he’s quite a skilled pilot, and she scolds herself for the wave of admiration she possesses for him.

_Enough,_ she says to herself. _Don’t feel. Bury it._


	6. Part One: Hate Me

**THREE DAYS LATER…**

The treaty has been signed, and the trade routes re-opened.

The negotiations had been lengthy and complex. At one point they had demanded the release of the _rumoured_ political prisoners. Rey had sent the DX squad to dispose of the political prisoners quickly and quietly, before telling the Dagoyan representatives that they had been misinformed – all political protestors had been killed in the invasion, no prisoners taken. A full thirty-six hours of discussion and all was decided, signed, and brought into law before General Hux’s shuttle touched the landing pad.

She had been the first to greet him, inform him of the developments that he would need to include in his rousing speech at the celebration.

The Bardottans loved her, and the entire city was abuzz with excitement to join in the celebrations, now that the First Order had brought the Dagoyans back into the citadel, re-opened the trade routes and ensured a peaceful occupation – all because of Lady Rey Snoke.

The Bardottans had announced on the holonet that they had made an alliance with the First Order.

Representatives of the New Republic had been outraged; but there was little they could do since the treaty had been signed. Any interference would have been an act of war.

Hux had been delighted with the young Lady Rey, and she could practically see him manipulating and scheming, how best to use this surprising asset to the First Order’s advantage. She abhorred the idea of being the First Order’s mascot – but there was a distinct advantage to the possibility. More time away from the _Supremacy._ And away from Kylo Ren. She needed to stay away from him, at all costs, now and in years to come.

Kylo Ren had been hovering quietly since their hostile encounter at the temple two days ago.

Everything had changed.

He’d gone from being her gentle giant, her masked monster, a protector, and potential friend – to her enemy. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. She flounders in guilt, because the worst part was that he didn’t know, couldn’t understand why it had to be this way. She’s sure her Father’s new apprentice is stronger and wiser than any other Force user she’s met – and hopes that if he could have known the truth, then he would agree she was making the right choice.

But what would answer the question, in the absence of the truth? She makes snide comments, storms off in his presence, and starts acting like the immature brat one would expect of the daughter of the strongest man in the galaxy. A part she takes no joy in playing.

Now she waits patiently in the former Throne room in the Citadel, waiting for her allotted holo meeting with her Father. His image fizzles and materialises, his seated form towering over her.

“Father,” she kneels before the hologram.

“Daughter,” he says, words like ice. “I send you to represent _me_ at a victory celebration. And I hear you’ve been playing diplomat instead.”

“They’ve denounced the Republic, re-opened trade routes and signed a treaty that gives the First Order legal occupation of the planet. And we have the support of the whole Bardottan system, including the people,” she says softly. “I hoped you might be proud of me.”

“Did you now?”

She feels icy fingers touching her neck, but she’s already prepared, with her crystal tucked into her boot and her mind drawing on the energy, her heart blackened and resolved. She’s so gutted at losing her only friend, it’s just so _easy_ to wallow in the ocean of darkness that envelops her entire being. Her walls are thrown up, but she brings forth memories to appease him. Killing the technician as she boards the shuttle to leave for Bardotta. Trying to attack Kylo Ren at the clifftop, failing dismally, which earns her a light chuckle from Snoke. Using the mind trick on Yentisch. Seeking knowledge and history at the Dagoyan Temple. Bringing the would-be traitors to their knees and ordering their execution. Exploring the tunnels and killing a young priestess. Throwing Kylo Ren from her mind when he tries to read her thoughts.

“So powerful, my daughter,” he croons softly, and she files through more memories, of the negotiations, of cunningly ordering the deaths of the political prisoners, and the lies that follow. The signing of the treaty. The announcements and crowds cheering. The first freighters taking off and arriving as the trade routes re-open.

When she’s finished, she waits patiently for her Father’s command.

“The people _love_ you,” he says wistfully, the word ‘ _love’_ foreign in his deep, earthy tone. “General Hux wants to use you to gain support of other systems, to represent the First Order. I’m tempted to give you to him. What do you think?”

“I am yours to command, Supreme Leader,” she says, her heart breaking a little but steeling her resolve. “As _you_ see fit.”

“Hmm. Good,” his eyes narrow and a smirk ghosts his weathered features. “And what would you ask of me?”

She frowns then, eyes dropping to the floor. She would have to learn to be more adept at hiding her feelings and trepidations. “You assigned Kylo Ren to protect me on this envoy.”

He waits patiently.

“He is brutal and cunning. I can see he will become a great and powerful warrior with your guidance. I do not know what he did to displease you, but I ask not that you forgive his transgression, but to utilise him where his talents are best served, on the battlefield. We are all tools of the First Order, and extensions of _your_ will, Father. I know the vision you see for the galaxy. Let us each do what we are best at, to bring that dream to fruition.”

He pauses thoughtfully. “How very astute.”

“A blessing of your teachings, Father,” and she smiles, glances at her father, batting her eyelashes once before averting her gaze back to the floor at his feet. If manipulation and words were weapons, she could spar with the best of them.

“Hmm.” Is all he says, when he ends the transmission, his holo fizzling into nothing, leaving her alone in the room.

Kylo Ren is standing on her balcony when she returns to her suite, as far away as he can be without betraying his mandate as her protector.

“I spoke to my Father,” she says to his back. “I asked him to re-assign you to a mission better suited to your talents.”

He turns then, cocking his head to the side and evaluating her. “You are in no position to ask this of the Supreme Leader.”

“And yet I did,” she counters. “It’s silly to use a Knight of Ren as a mere bodyguard. And I’ve proven that I can look after myself.”

He’s practically simmering with subdued ferocity. She lets her guard down a little, and reaches out with a tendril of sadness, a peace offering as such. He exhales and responds in kind. “I was trying to help you, and you shut me out. Why?”

He suddenly sends a wave of force crashing into her, slicing through her rock-solid wall in her moment of weakness, and he’s invading her memories as Rey sinks to her knees. Walking through the corridors of the temple, killing the priestess, then the vision. He barely gets past the beginning when Rey reaches down, and her fingertips graze the crystal tucked inside her boot and she forces him out, slamming the connection with an invisible blast door and sending Kylo sprawling across the room.

He’s seen part of her vision – the horrors of her childhood, the first time they met, her father’s punishments, when Kylo held her at the clifftop, pulling her back from the ledge. He’s seen no more since she forced him out, blissfully he won’t have to know the burden that she carries. The future that if she lets happen, will destroy them both.

“What did you see?” he demands, finding his feet and bringing himself to her side in an instant. He removes his gloves and helmet, but Rey knows _exactly_ what his new angle is. He _knows_ she finds him handsome, he _knows_ she doesn’t like his helmet. It’s psychological manipulation, something her Father had a penchant for, something he’d taught them both. He can’t get answers the easy way, so to hell with the Force, he’s going to plead instead. “The Force gave you a vision, I was part of it,” he says. “I saw the past and the present. _You_ saw the future. What did you see?”

“Something that could destroy us both,” she says, shaking her head as traitorous tears escape. “I’m trying to save you, so you can stop that. I’m not giving you _anything.”_

“Save me?” his brow is furrowed. “Or yourself?”

“Both.” Crestfallen, her eyes drop to the floor, admitting her own self-preservation is on equal footing with her desire to spare him.

He’s breathing heavily, lips curled in equal parts revulsion and unrestrained curiosity; dark eyes burning holes into her core. “And you expect me just to trust you?”

“No, don’t trust me,” she turns her gaze to meet his once more. “Hate me. I know you can.”

“You’re… asking me to _hate_ you?” his tone is dripping with sarcasm and contempt.

“I’ll make it easy for you, I promise.”

“That’s so _very_ thoughtful of you, Lady Rey.”

“Good. Now get out.”


	7. Part One: Detachment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the Kudos it means a lot to me.

 

 

Rey looks at her reflection, staring at her own hazel eyes, feeling disembodied as Tes styles her hair and applies her makeup. She looks at herself, and sees heavy circles beneath her eyes, lips set in a natural frown. She looks beautiful and feminine and so very grown up, for a mere fourteen years old, but she feels in the last five days that she has aged ten years. A week ago, she wanted nothing more than to grow up and be taken seriously, and now she wishes nothing more than to go back to the way things used to be. When she was the Supreme Leader’s daughter, running around his massive starship, spoiled yet unremarkable. When Kylo Ren was just her father’s apprentice, and not someone she was inexplicably tethered to, by some demented twist of fate.

She knows how to play people, she can manipulate her way through life to keep an entire galaxy between her and Kylo Ren. When the Supreme Leader calls for him, she can pretend to take an interest in the weapons factories of Malastare. When he lays siege to a planet on the outer rim, she will attend a festival on Corellia. Her reputation for being disturbing and unusual had been a topic of the rumour mill for some time, that she hopes to use it to her advantage – that no one would question her erratic and bizarre movements.

She feels bile rising in her throat and she fights back a wave of nausea and dizziness with unhinged terror, with one facet of her predicament called into question. Is her vision inevitable, and can she stop it? What if running is the path that ultimately leads to her demise? Should she do nothing? How can she stop Kylo Ren from discovering the truth – and more importantly, Leader Snoke? She knows about Force visions – she knows her Father won’t place much stock in prophecy, however if there is any possibility of a threat to his reign, he won’t hesitate to destroy it.

And she’s only _fourteen_ for stars’ sake! Love and companionship aren’t even on the spectrum of her desires – she just wants to find her place in the galaxy, to make her father proud, to learn all she can about the growing power she possesses. Whatever it is, that she is destined to become, she wants to be the very best.

And for that, Kylo Ren needs to go.

It’s a pity they won’t be leaving Bardotta until the day after tomorrow, she supposes, because it’s another two days, plus travel time, they need to remain in close proximity. While staring mindlessly at her porcelain-doll reflection, she mulls over the idea of sending him away early. She has an entire trooper squadron as her personal guard, and General Hux can act in his stead as a guardian proxy. Her masked monster’s presence is surplus to requirements. That’s what she tells herself to avoid thinking about what she has foreseen. 

Tes finishes her young mistress’s hair and Rey stands, smoothing the creases of her dress. She is the embodiment of elegance and strength. A long, black ball gown, with a sleeveless, boned bodice, corset ribbon up her back and a layered silk skirt. Her hair is pulled back, tight, and sharp into a bun, perfect and neat with military precision. General Hux is also dressed in the most dapper of formal wear, all black, accompanied with an overcoat with the First Order insignia blazoned on his shoulder. He is tall, pale-faced with sharp blue eyes and ginger hair perfectly smoothed back. He greets her at her bedroom door with the most eager bow.

“My lady, you look a vision.”

His choice of words stabs at her already tender mind, and she accepts his outstretched hand, as he escorts her to the much-anticipated event. Already there is partying in the city streets below, music and lights, laughing and the stomping feet of thousands of people dancing.

“You made a peaceful alliance from a violent invasion,” General Hux says with a meaningful glint in his eye. “This celebration in the citadel is for the peaceful transition of powers, the new trade agreements and a strong alliance. The celebration outside, is for you, Milady. The people _love_ you.”

“Then perhaps I should join the party in the streets, General. It would be rude not to grace them with my presence, don’t you think?”

“Out of the question, for security you understand. But even if it were possible, I’m not sure your _guard dog_ would allow it.”

She narrows her eyes and exhales, irked beyond measure at his nasty comment. To call Ren a guard dog is akin to calling her a spoiled devil-child, or the Supreme Leader a wrinkled senile wizard, or any member of the High Command giddy salivating warmongers. His tone smacks of a familiarity they don’t yet possess, and she wishes he would save the name-calling rhetoric for the holonet instead of in-house conversation.

“Kylo Ren is a powerful warrior, General, and my father’s apprentice. Say what you will among colleagues, but I won’t have you insult him in my presence,” she reprimands, choosing her words carefully.

“My apologies,” he says without a single _ounce_ of sincerity.

“I’ve been thinking,” she begins, worrying her bottom lip nervously with her teeth. “I have my squadron from the DX-Corps assigned as protection,” Rey tells him. “I’ve become quite fond of them, I’d like to keep them as my personal guard.”

“Are you asking me a favour, Milady?” Hux misses nothing.

“Are you in a position to make it happen?”

“I am.”

“Then, yes, General, I’m asking a favour.”

He smirks knowingly, as though she’s too young to understand that she’s stroked his ego by indebting herself to him and apathetic to the consequences. _I know what I’m doing,_ she tells herself. _It’s necessary._

She hopes.

“Consider it done,” he says. “And what of Ren?”

“I asked the Supreme Leader to have him re-assigned to a mission more suited to his talents.”

Hux stops, bringing them both to a halt, and he looks down at her, nose scrunched and speaking as though he can taste something acrid in the air. “You _asked_ the Supreme Leader? Nobody _asks_ the Supreme Leader, Milady,” he admonishes, “Least of all to re-assign the Knights of Ren.”

“Perks of being the Supreme Daughter,” she quips monotonously, growing tired of men telling her what she can’t do. Besides, if it backfires, it’s her punishment, not theirs. Why should they concern themselves with issues that lie solely between Father and Daughter?

“Come,” he says curtly, falling into step once more as he leads her towards the party. “We don’t want to be late.”

The air is thick with tension, and she tries to lighten the mood. “I’m sure you have an inspiring speech prepared, General,” she states. “To recount our victories.”

“And denounce our enemies,” he adds, the tension dissipating and a zealous pride filling the void. “It’s important in light of peaceful _acquisitions_ to remember our true directive.”

“Of course,” she agrees, then a surge of devastation as she plants the seed that she fears will enslave her to a less than honourable purpose. “If the Supreme Leader agrees, I would very much like to support the First Order in that regard.”

General Hux looks down at her with a smile that reaches his eyes. Her arm is tucked into the crook of his, and he reaches his other hand over to pat hers kindly. “You have the makings of a true leader, Milady. I think you will surprise us all.”

_It’s done,_ she thinks to herself, feeling both trapped in a web of her own making, and relieved that she’s found an ally in General Hux; unsure if it’s because of what he can offer her, or if it’s because of who he’s _not._

They enter the ballroom with an eruption of applause, but Hux twirls his young companion to the front of the platform, atop a grand staircase, so she can bask in the glory, with him standing behind her, a gloved hand on her shoulder, a gesture that to him, was that of a surrogate guardian showing support. But to her, the gesture was far too intimate for her liking and the gloved hand wasn’t the one she wished she could have. She regards the party with a graceful nod, but inside she’s desolate, and blissfully, Hux retreats his hand and leads her down the staircase, through swarms of delegates, officers and religious leaders, each congratulating and thanking her, her skirts swishing as Hux leads her to the long, elevated table at the head of the ballroom, each of her steps consisting of carefully falsified composure.

The entire room watches as the honoured guests are seated, before taking their own.

The Force is clouded with neutrality, neither light nor dark, but shades of grey, as she feels the presence of each Force-sensitive Bardottan in the room. The grey is starkly interrupted by two black, menacing presences. Hers, and Kylo Ren. He’s hovering silently, and mostly unseen atop the balcony overlooking the ballroom floor. Scanning for danger, checking on her.

Hux stands at a prepared lectern, and begins his speech, and she tunes out. She’s heard his voice on the holonet twice daily for as long as she can remember, and she puts on a vaguely interested expression while he animatedly recounts the First Order’s successes, paying a short, false homage to the fallen, failing to specify of which side. He marks the respect of the Dagoyan Order as enshrined into the Bardottan culture, the continuity of peaceful occupation, before his attentions turn to the Supreme Daughter.

He tells the ballroom that here sits not the Supreme Leader’s daughter, but the First Order’s daughter. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and she takes a long swig of champagne as the General plays to the mood of the room, all eyes on her. _The people **love** you. _And oh, how he’s going to use that to his advantage.

He tells the Bardottans and their occupying forces, that Lady Rey Snoke will serve as the First Order’s Ambassador, paving the way for a new power in the galaxy, one without the Republic’s weakness and corruption and inability to act.

“To you, Milady,” he finishes, raising his champagne glass in unison with the rest of the party. “And to an Alliance built to last.”

The ovation in the ballroom is drowned by the unified applause and cheers coming from the city outside. It is then, she realises belatedly, that the General’s address is being broadcast, with a film crew nestled between two round tables, trained on the lectern. She’s been thrust into the spotlight, and now there is no going back.

The attendees all retake their seats as the entrées are served. She eats the small delicacies and some wafer bread to counter the buzz from the champagne. When a servant girl comes to refill her glass, she refuses and asks for water instead. There’s a soft chirping from beneath Hux’s chair, and he retrieves his datapad from beneath it. He skims over the incoming message and smirks, before leaning towards her, speaking in undertones. “I underestimated you,” he says quietly, “It would appear your bodyguard has been re-assigned.”

She takes the datapad from him and skims over the comprehensive new order. Kylo Ren. Knights of Ren. Republic Senator. Assassination. Retake Mygeeto. No quarter. Dispatch immediately.

Several things flit through her mind at once. The first is unmistakably sorrow, but she tries to not let it show on her expression. The second is relief that soon she’ll be free of Kylo Ren, and that the gamble of asking for his re-assignment of Leader Snoke had paid off. But it’s those magic words she latches onto, _Dispatch Immediately,_ that cut the deepest. Kylo would find the orders on his datapad upon returning to their rooms an hour or two from now, after the party. _Or I could tell him now, and he’ll be gone sooner._

“I will inform him,” she says, taking the datapad in hand and moving from the table.

“Milady, it would be impertinent to neglect the gathering, given your new status.”

“Five minutes,” she promises, before gathering her skirts and hastily disappearing into a nearby corridor. She takes the nearest elevator up two levels and finds Kylo Ren looming on the second level balcony, leaning on the balustrade. He regards her, expression incomprehensible in his kriffing mask, and she steels her expression and wordlessly hands him the datapad.

Outside the vast, ceiling-high windows, the night sky explodes in bursts of light and colour, fireworks popping, crackling, and fizzling, streaking brilliantly across the blackness as the crowds below erupt into _ooh’s_ and _ahh’s_. She gives the outstanding display a single glance, remembering a happier time when such things could make her laugh with unrestrained joy and smile until her cheeks hurt.

He reads the summary order, before handing it back, lingering as if waiting permission for immediate departure, waiting to be dismissed by a superior officer, except that she’s not. Or is she? She holds no authority in the army, and the Knights of Ren are without rank, operating externally from the military, reporting directly to Leader Snoke. Where did that leave her?

_Does it even matter?_ She thought, swallowing the emotion, avoiding his questioning gaze and the way the colourful fireworks outside glint off the silver accents on his mask.

“I’m sure the _Supremacy_ had a copy sent direct to your datapad,” she tells him, eyes casting downwards. “Hux has organised a more permanent security arrangement of stormtroopers in your absence. You can leave immediately. You may take my shuttle, I expect to be on further diplomatic missions on an alternative transport with General Hux.” Her tone is clipped and eyes stone cold, an icy exterior with a boiling core.

He says nothing, bows his head respectfully and she turns to leave, tears rolling down her cheeks the moment her face is hidden from his view. She hopes he has also turned to leave the other direction, but when she enters the elevator, the mirrored walls reflect that he’s watching her intensely.

And he’s seen the tears.

He reaches out with the force, a breeze of regret ebbs towards her and she snaps their connection closed, with a Force-blow so hard it tears the curtains and makes the elevator shudder. Then the doors close and she’s torn apart. Hoping she never sees him again. Wishing she could.

She’s never had a friend before.

And now, she thinks, she never will again.


	8. Part Two: The Breadbasket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chappy is a bit boring sorry. The start and end felt like the right way to introduce part two. Time gap is 2 years. Part Two introduces more adult themes, mild violence and mild sex scene that's fairly brief and vanilla but is definitely worth the forewarning if you're not into that kind of thing.

Uquine is a massive planet, covered with patches of varying shades of yellow and green. Its sole industry is agriculture and is a massive exporter of food products for the Colonies and Core Worlds, and the First Order’s next potential ally. She’s been working for months on this venture, researching, and studying, rubbing elbows with the right people, and undergoing the painful political processes involved in even _requesting_ to meet with the Uquine Councillors to discuss a trade agreement. For the entire system to even consider meeting with her is a great risk to them and their current trade partners, the New Republic, one they would not take unless the benefits outweighed the potential danger.

Rey will see to it that she listens to whatever outrageous demands they make, without losing her temper or force-pushing anyone out of a window. Yes, she’s done it once before, but the Director of the Mygeeto Hammertong Facility _deserved_ it and the second in charge was _perfectly_ suited to promotion… she doesn’t understand why it had been such a big deal, only that Hux had made her promise not to do it again.

So perhaps meeting with the Uquine Council is a great risk for _them,_ but they don’t need to know it – and if both parties make nice, there’ll be no need for violence. She’s confident in her negotiating skills this time, and without the intimidation of a Star Destroyer in orbit and a certain ill-tempered Dark Knight standing over her shoulder – perhaps she can report a successful trade agreement before the end of the cycle.

The shuttle gave a gentle lurch as they entered the atmosphere, soaring through blue skies with big, white fluffy clouds, over the crops and towards the Capital. They pass a single, oversized machine, stark and greyscale against the greenery, and she knows this to be one of the Uquine systems fabled mega harvesters. It allowed them to harvest and re-sow their crops in record time, a never-ending cycle that ensured their people fed and their crops exported year-round, coupled with the terraformed environment, it fed millions across the galaxy and eliminated the need for local storage.

The Supreme Leader had gifted her the funding and approval to arrange the manufacture of more powerful and efficient Mega-Harvesters as both a trade deal incentive and so the Uquine system would be equipped to handle the supply demand of the First Order. The bigger, better, brand new Harvesters were waiting on Kuat for shipment on Rey’s order.

The backup plan if negotiations turn sour, is to destroy the current-model Harvesters from orbit, bringing their entire economy to a halt until they sign the trade agreement, then deliver the new harvesters. Uquine will be their newest ally and trade partner, giving the First Order a stronger foothold in the Colonies; whether they liked it or not.

It’s her hardest task yet, but she’s tasted victory many times over and refuses to fail.

The shuttle is directed to a landing pad on the outskirts of the Capital, where a trio of refurbished Imperial speeders awaits them. Perhaps they don’t intend on a royal welcome, Rey thinks bitterly. Or perhaps the speeders with their angular chassis and aged interiors are they best they can offer.

She is accompanied by her personal guard, ten of the best soldiers of the DX-corps, and they split into groups, four of them in the first speeder, three in the second speeder with Rey, and the remaining three in the third speeder on their six.

She can see the Council chambers in the distance, a tall, square structure in the centre of the city with a domed roof. It could only be a few miles away.

“Lovely day for a walk, don’t you think?” she says to her pilot.

He looks at her, then to his comrades, she can feel ripples of uncertainty coming from her guards; and she catches a flurry of thoughts from the troopers on either side of her.

_Is she joking? It’s miles away I’m not walking that far. Cutting through the city centre… unknown hostiles but the speeders at least have deflection shields- She’s mad!_

“I’m joking,” she adds. “Let’s go.”

“Yes, Milady,” they respond in unison, clearly relieved, and the speeders take off in a straight line towards the Council chambers.

The city is bustling with fruit and vegetable markets, various droids that pre-date all the current models she knows of, and farming families going about their day. Some ignore them, others stop to stare. One little boy runs into their path and is pulled back to the sidewalk by his mother _just_ in time – and the flustered woman eyes the troopers, shouting ‘sorry!’

Rey assumes her usual expression of indifference and skims the surface of her mind as they pass. Nobody seems to know who Rey is, or why she is there, just that she’s flanked by a squad of stormtroopers and that the group are _not_ to be trifled with.

The pilot takes care to fly a little slower, keeping an eye out for other wayward children, as they head towards the Council chambers, reaching their destination fifteen minutes later. As the speeders come to a halt, Rey sees a dozen councillors dressed in pale green robes, deep in discussion, awaiting her arrival at the steps. She has prepared for this and knows all their names and faces. There are six men and six women, all grey-haired and too old for manual labour. They all had sons and grandsons working in the fields, and their elevated status was not earned by popular vote, but by meeting select criteria, including but not limited to their lifetime harvest contribution, the number of offspring they had produced and no criminal history. It was the kind of political system she could appreciate, those that worked the hardest and contributed the most to society would be fit to lead. If only the simplicity and scrupulousness of the Uquine local government system could quell the loathsome corruption that grips all hearts for those who dare to venture into politics.

She surprises them by greeting all the councillors by name. With the touch of every hand, she senses a myriad of apprehension and curiosity, two or three of hatred and loathing, and the youngest councillor, Councillor Dezzik, an attractive man in his late forties with streaks of grey hair, gives her a wink and his eyes rove her immaculately dressed figure. He’s thinking about what it would be like to bend her over the desk in the meeting room and take her like an animal, and she feels a little bile rise in her throat, but swallows and flashes him the most pleasant smile she can muster – a little flirting and this man is wrapped around her little finger. One down, eleven to go.

“Shall we begin?” Lady Rey asks lightly.

“Milady, I must impress we do not allow weapons in the council chambers,” Dezzik says, nodding towards her guard, raising a hand to touch her shoulder. She anticipates the move and steps out of reach before he has a chance.

“They go where I go, Councillor,” she flexes her fingers stealthily at her side, and pushes against his mind with the Force. “They will wait outside the meeting room.” _I am a young lady on a foreign planet, surely you can make such allowances._

“They will wait outside the meeting room,” Councillor Dezzik says, turning to his fellow Councillors, “She is a young lady on a foreign planet, surely we can make such allowances.”

The three hateful councillors protest, but the majority mumble in agreement, allowing her troopers access as they enter the council chambers. The lobby ceiling is the highest, reaching all the way to the glass dome ceiling, and it reflects light off the green and yellow floor tiles. Their colour matches the colour of the planets crops, and everywhere she looks she sees symbolism rife throughout the building. Pillars emblazoned with figures of farmers tilling their fields, tapestries depicting farmer’s wives and their roles in the family unit, ceiling-high windows with blue and white drapes the colour of the sky and soft yellow walls the colour of the sun.

She’s studied this building, not just the culture and history of it, but the schematics, too, at DX4597’s insistence. She knows where the meeting rooms are, the fresher and all the escape routes. The entire council, Rey, and her guards wait outside the meeting room on the far side of the building while two of Rey’s guards inspect the room for threats and scan for tech, weapons, and explosives. Mollified, they retreat from the room, announce that it’s _clean,_ and the Councillors file in, followed by Lady Rey – as the squad take position outside the door. Inside, there is a long, brown glossy table in the centre of the room, with thirteen chairs seated around it. There are ceiling-high windows that give a panoramic view of the westside of the city, and the fields beyond.

They engage in brief discussion, with Councillor Dezzik promising to give her a full tour of the building when they break for recess, before they are all seated, and the negotiations begin.

Rey starts.

“The First Order has millions of mouths to feed, and Uquine is more than equipped to meet the demand,” she says bluntly. “Any trade partnership will need to be in exact terms and perfectly legal, so it is my task to ensure that all parties involved reach a mutually beneficial agreement.”

The room erupts into argument, and Rey pulls at the entanglement of emotions, her heart swelling with the power of the dark side of the Force. It’s only the beginning, but she _will_ succeed – failure is unacceptable.

 

 

 


	9. Part Two: Awry

 

**_REY POV_ **

The skies are bleeding into bright colours at the days’ end. In the east, the horizon is navy and purple, above it is shades of pink, and in the west, a bleeding crimson as the setting sun disappears, its tendrils of light grasping at the edges of the world like the dying embers of a fire, death inevitable but still fighting regardless.

The red streaked atmosphere draws her mind elsewhere, lost in thought. In the distance, a hovering mega-harvester is black and looming, stark against the crimson sky. Black and red. _Kylo Ren._ His name, his voice, his presence, everything about him is locked away in the deep recesses of her mind, but no matter how hard she tries, it’s the tiny little reminders like a bleeding sunset that crack open a fissure. The chasm is narrow but runs deep, there is danger that glows from its depths, and always, she is fighting the alluring pull towards it. Sometimes it’s easy, other times, it takes all her strength to keep her feelings, whatever they are, and the memories, no matter how significant – at bay.

The meetings had gone on for hours, and although she revels in the distraction of her work, the Councillors had opted to stop for the day, and resume talks tomorrow. She’s halfway and _so close._ There’s six Uquine Councillors on her side, three who blatantly refuse, and three undecideds. When she has nine against twelve, she will use whatever means necessary to achieve total cooperation, but hopes that being simply outnumbered, the peer pressure will come to the same conclusion.

The sound of blaster fire brings her from her reverie, and she draws her vibrodagger from beneath her skirt. The meeting room is abandoned, as far as she was aware, and her stormtroopers had been faithfully waiting outside the doors. Blaster bolts, shouting, then thuds of armour-clad troopers hitting the hard floor. She’s waiting for her would-be attacker to enter, shrouded in the dark side, power building inside her, like a coiled snake waiting to strike.

No such luck. The door opens a crack and in comes flying two small metallic spheres with an electric hum and pulsating lights. _Thermal detonators_.

She reaches out with the Force and pushes the flying spheres to the other side of the room whilst turning on her heel and sprinting in the opposite direction. She pushes at the window with the Force, but there’s no time to shatter the glass before she takes a flying leap towards it, smashing it as she goes through, then the sick feeling in her guts of falling, just for a moment… then the room behind her explodes and she’s thrown from the building like a ragdoll, the sheer force pushing her farther away and the flames hot on her back. Falling is the next thing she feels, ringing in her ears and a sickly thud as her body hits a nearby passing speeder. She instinctively grabs hold of the back of the speeder, ignoring the pain shooting through her body. The driver is a humanoid-shaped droid who is perplexed to see her – there isn’t a protocol for humans falling onto one’s speeder – and she grabs the droid by the neck and throws it from the speeder, as she climbs to the front seat to drive, grunting and crying with effort at every bodily movement because _stars_ it hurts.

“Kriffing traitorous snakes!” she shouts and winces with the effort. Her head feels wet, and she touches a palm to the sorest spot, finding it soaked in bright red blood. Red. Bleeding. _Kylo…_

She’s breathing heavily while keeping the speeder steady, giving it full speed, punching it out of the city towards the landing pad where her shuttle is waiting. She can see the outline of its folded wings when suddenly it explodes into a ball of light and flame, the booming sound reaching her ears moments later. Now, she is trapped.

She redirects the speeder towards the nearest crops at full speed, coming to a halt where the paved street meets earthy embankment, and brings it to an abrupt halt. She stumbles out of the speeder, up the embankment and into the high greenery, pushing through blade after blade of some mass-grown plant she can’t remember the name of, deeper and deeper into the fields. She can hear blaster fire behind her, and another explosion. They’ve fired on her stolen speeder. They know she’s escaped, and they’re hunting her.

She’s overdue to check in with the nearest First Order cruiser, and she knows they’ll descend on the planet and find her before the night’s end. She runs as far and as fast as her broken body will let her, and then stumbles and falls into a shallow canal. The cold water is heavenly on her burns, but she regretfully leaves the tiny river behind, because it leaves her exposed from the skies above. She only needs to get through the night. She reaches out through the Force in hopes to relieve her pain, and in the sudden clarity, she remembers something that makes her stomach churn.

When it had become clear that the negotiations were _far_ from over, she had checked in with the _Virulence,_ the dissident-class light cruiser that had escorted her to Uquine. The negotiations were taking longer than anticipated, and she would comm them in two days’ time with updates, and hopefully a good result.

Two days.

They wouldn’t come looking for her, for two more days.

In sheer panic, she takes stock of her situation – mild burns to her back, a knock to her head, battered and bruised all over, painful now that the adrenaline was burning off. No communicator, no weapon – her vibrodagger lost and no transport.

_Run,_ she tells herself. _Hide._

There’s a sudden vibration through the earth, and a mechanical thrum reaches her ears. There’s a mega-harvester operating nearby. She follows the sounds until she reaches the massive machine, feeling suddenly very small and insignificant, a mere insect beneath the belly of a monstrous invention. The harvester reaches the end of a field, before turning to change direction. As it turns, Rey runs towards the side and deftly grabs the nearest ladder, climbing up, higher and higher to one of the maintenance platforms, before the pain becomes too much and she collapses on the metal grating. She’s not sure she can hide atop a harvester for two days without being found.

There’s dried blood mixed with dirt on her hands and as she fights to stay awake, she looks up to regard the beautiful night sky, and her thoughts drift lazily to Kylo Ren. They’ve been living the very meaning of hostile ever since parting ways on Bardotta eighteen months prior. Every chance meeting, the encounters she can’t avoid, one of them, sometimes both, end up bruised or bleeding. The last time they met four months ago, he’d inadvertently snuck up on her in the training room, catching her working through forms with her vibrostaff, and she’d been so furious with him she’d thrown him to the floor with a well-placed whack of her training staff. In retaliation, he’d sliced her staff clean through with his spitting red lightsaber and kept her frozen in place, maintaining the Force and holding her there while he completed his own training regime, a cocky display of power, a twisted mind game designed to frustrate and infuriate her to the point of no return. And it worked, because she had been so imbalanced, so angry that she hadn’t been able to wriggle from his grasp, instead Forced to stand still with a broken training staff in her hand as Kylo Ren moved through his lightsaber forms, working with her training droids, during her training time.

But now, broken, burned and bleeding on the maintenance platform of the Uquine mega-harvester, no allies and little hope of a rescue, she calls out to him, hoping by some miracle of the Force, that he could hear her, even a galaxy away.

Deep in trance, she works through the blackened scorched earth of her mind, stepping over memories and failures and trepidations towards the radiating fissure where she keeps all thoughts and memories of him, and _that vision_ – locked away.

She taps into the power she finds there, and throws herself wide open to the Force, feeling her way through all the energy and the life, the stars, the death, and the darkness, searching for the familiar. She can sense her father, fleetingly distant, but she shies away – afraid of his wrath for her failure. She knows she can still achieve an alliance with Uquine, she does have a backup plan after all – but it’s a distant possibility if she can’t be rescued and have her injuries treated.

“Kylo,” she calls out to nothingness. She’s searching for an eternity, so, so cold and weak. Tired. Her vision starts to fade in and out. _Kylo._ There’s something there, a flicker of recognition, but then it goes cold. He’s sensed her but is closing himself off. _Of course,_ she thinks bitterly, recalling every snide remark she’s ever made to him.

Then everything fades, and darkness claims her.

 

* * *

 

**_KYLO POV_ **

It’s days like today that he needs to remind himself that every awful task undertaken is _necessary._

He doesn’t agree with the slaughtering of innocents, but the Force-sensitives must die, the Jedi Order cannot be reborn. The Supreme Leader is wise to foresee the danger they pose to everything they have built.

It didn’t make him feel any less remorseful, though. The Jedi Killer, they called him, but these youngsters weren’t Jedi. They were just collateral. It wasn’t what they had done, but what they _could_ do.

The path he has chosen, the darkness he has pledged himself to, demands total faith and commitment. The traitors, murderers and thieves must die. Any who oppose the First Order, must die. And anyone who could bring about a spark of hope for the Resistance – like only a Jedi could – must die.

Kylo stands in his sonic shower, the thrum of the high-pressure water pounding the weary muscles on his back, somewhat soothing, a little too hot and a little bit painful. The lights of the controls bath his naked form and the clinical grey cubicle in a red glow that brings him back to the decimation of a hundred people. He’d led his Knights into the village, with the sole purpose of assassinating one girl, but foolishly her community had rallied to protect her. All dead, now. The girl herself by his own hand. He remembers brunette hair and hazel eyes and is reminded of another girl he’d very much like to forget.

Lady Rey had been an ally of his, once, a friend almost, until she’d tapped further into her own power and driven him away. She’s been almost _cruel_ ever since. He remembers their first meeting after parting ways on Bardotta. Her glare was cold and calculating as she berated him for being another of her Father’s mindless dark force warriors, a faithful rabid dog at her disposal. He remembers her attacking him in the training room aboard the _Supremacy_. She was counting on him not having the audacity to physically hurt the Supreme Daughter, but it didn’t mean she was stronger than him. He’d shown her the true extent of his power that day, having held back every other time. While he trained, he left her standing, frozen and unmoving, trapped inside her own body and mind, having lost every ounce of control, with a broken vibrostaff in her hands.

He knows that one day, when she’s older, her powers will match his. But not yet.

He knows that one day, she’ll be the Supreme Leader – he’s seen it in his dreams. But not yet.

And the peak of everything he knows about her, is that whenever they encounter one another, she is full of sadness – masked with aggression. He can’t fathom why, and every time she leaves, he’s left with wanting more. Kylo Ren lets no obstacle stand in his way but understanding Lady Rey and her behaviour was something that always eludes him, and he finds it fascinating. Like he’s a student trying to figure out a problem, and she won’t give him a clue, so he’s left trying to piece it together himself.

It is not their aggressive encounters that he values though. It is their first meeting, and the way she ran away on Bardotta, with such child-like glee, the way she clung to the darkness but was still naively drawn in by the light. _We’re the same._ It’s those memories he will cherish, not the hatred that followed. His mind is a jagged, rocky mountain, and those memories are a blue flower peeking through the cracks. He can’t bear to destroy it, but neither will he let it weaken him. Instead, there’s a rocky wall between him and that flower, and there it will remain, untouched, but out of sight.

_“Kylo…”_

He stiffens and grips the cold wall, sudden pain shooting through his head, throbbing, and spreading to his body and limbs. He reaches out, momentarily, until he recognises the source, a split second later and he throws up a wall in his mind and pushes _her_ out.

He’s angry now. How dare she try to torment him from across the galaxy? It wasn’t unpleasant enough to have to see her in passing every six months, that usually ended in one of them being hurt, that now she has the audacity to try it long distance? She must be testing her powers, he assumes, but refuses to play her immature games. He has purpose, however nefarious and violent, but she is just a child with a limitless power she doesn’t yet comprehend, and the galaxy is her playground.

He thinks for a moment, fleetingly, _she must be almost sixteen now,_ before the anger takes over and he punches the frosted glass of the shower, and it crumbles into white pieces flecked with blood. He’s so _done_ with her.

 


	10. Part Two: Wounded Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS – sex in this chapter. It’s brief and fairly vanilla though, so don’t get too excited.  
> Thanks again for all the kudos.

 

Feeling begins to return to her body, and she feels a light, cool caressing on her burns, the weight and warmth of a blanket, and a pleasant tingling sensation spreading through her extremities. There’s a wet cloth pressed to her forehead, gently wiping away blood and dirt, then the sound of a rag in a bucket, sloshing, dripping, before she feels it again. The world is bright and harsh as it comes into view, and she finds herself staring up into blue eyes and blonde hair. A boy, her age, perhaps a little older, smiles back at her. He’s the culprit with the damp cloth.

“Hello there,” he greets. “What’s your name?”

She just glares at him, and she can tell he is startled by the way he shifts uncomfortably beneath her gaze. She skims his mind. _I saved you, why are you looking at me like that?_

Then she softens and reaches to touch his hand, placed on the mattress by her side. “I’m Tes,” she says with a smile, and she winces in feigned agony.

“Easy, Tes, you’ve taken quite a knock to the head. I think you’ll be all right though.”

“Where am I?” she pleads softly. “Who are you?” He’s practically beaming with kindness and courage, having rescued the helpless girl, and _oh_ how easily she will use it against him.

“I’m Sarif,” he says, “You’re safe here, in my family’s farm house. My parents are gone for the week, I’m looking after the farm while they’re away.” He says it with confidence and pride, and Rey senses it’s the first time he’s been trusted to run the family business alone. _Good,_ she thinks. There will be no witnesses when she needs to kill him.

“Where did you come from?” he inquires. “I found you on the maintenance platform of the harvester, although how you managed to get up there with your injuries, I’ll never know.”

“I fell,” Rey frowns, a little bit ashamed at how the practised lies came from her mouth, instinctually. “Our ship came under attack, from the First Order,” she chokes back a sob. “I was in an escape pod, but it was damaged, and it was going to crash. I don’t remember what happened after that.”

“It sounds like you were very lucky. I didn’t see an escape pod, but maybe it overshot into Helo’s territory. He’s the farmer next door. I’ll ask him if he’s seen it.”

“No one can know I’m here,” Rey insists, flexing her fingers gently and pressing against his mind with the force. “You mustn’t tell anyone.”

“No one can know, I won’t tell anyone,” Sarif echoes.

_All too easy_ , she thinks. The farm house should suffice for a hideout in case the villainous Councillors come looking for her, giving her time to prepare to strike back.

“Thank you, Sarif, for taking care of me,” she says, earnestly, and he gives her the gentlest of smiles that makes her icy walls melt.

“You’re welcome,” he kisses the back of her bare hand, and she is cognizant of the way her pulse quickens when he looks at her like _that.._. and she supresses a shudder. She’s been surrounded by men and boys her entire life, but no one has ever made her feel quite so special with just one look, and perhaps, she supposes, the kindly farm boy doesn’t have to die, after all.

Sarif leaves her to rest, and the moment he is gone, she’s up and walking around, slow, and gingerly, her muscles stiff and sore from her assassination attempt the night before and the consequent running, and dreamless slumber. Yesterday’s clothes are torn and tattered, cut in places where he had salved her burns, and covered in nettles from running through the crop fields.

The ringing in her ears is gone, but her headache remains, unsure whether the result of her head injury, or being unconscious atop a pulsating mega-harvester for hours on end, or a combination thereof.

She spends most of the day evaluating her surroundings. The farmhouse is small, and built from various materials, some wood panelling, stone bricks and duracrete panels, with sliding doors of multiple widths and design. It looks like it was built by a poor family with what materials they could scavenge. She can appreciate the resourcefulness. Her hardest years on Jakku taught her to salvage broken things and make them new again – and it kept her alive, just as, she suspects, it kept this family alive, too.

Now she knows she can’t kill him. She can tell from their meticulously repaired, recycled, and reconditioned surroundings that they’re victims of class warfare – the economic gap between the insanely wealthy and the working-class farmer makes her sick. She’s a victim too, of the failed policies of the New Republic. It strengthens her resolve. “I’m trying to help you people,” she says to the empty rooms. “This is wrong.”

There is a data terminal with a wide viewscreen showing harvest stats, soil and weather conditions, sunrise and sunset, rainfall predicted and the mega-harvester schedule. Examining the schedule, Rey sees that fortunately, the mega harvester isn’t due to harvest Sarif’s family crops for another four days, which gives the farmhouse, surrounded by ten-foot high crops, excellent cover. Rey couldn’t bear to stay a moment longer if the crops had been culled to ground level, exposing her for miles in every direction. The Force is definitely with her.

She takes one last look at the monitor, sees the star-date, and realises it’s her birthday again. Sixteen seems far too young to be assassinated, she notes, and checks the family calendar out of curiosity, and finds that Sarif is merely seventeen, only one year and two months her senior.

She’s strangely drawn to the farm boy, and checks each window, searching for a sign of him. She finds him shirtless, splitting wood logs with a large-bladed vibro-axe. He’s very lean, with a sun-kissed skin tone and she adores his floppy blonde hair. He must have sensed her gaze upon him, and he turns to give her a friendly wave, and she blushes furiously.

“Hello there,” he greets, meeting her at the window, blue eyes evaluating the bacta-patches and bandages on her body.

“Hello,” she smiles back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks to you.”

“Well I’m just… chopping some wood. It gets cold here at night, it’s that time of year. I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.”

“No, I suppose not.” As if the Force was mocking them, a cool breeze comes blowing, and she shivers.

“I’ll be in shortly, and I’ll draw you a nice bath, and I’ll make some supper, how does that sound?”

“Wonderful,” she says, but her smile drops. “Sarif, why are you being so kind to me?” She knows she shouldn’t ask such questions but finds herself so selfish for compliments and attention from him that she can’t stop herself.

“An Angel fell from the sky and landed on my harvester, it seems we were fated to meet, and I was meant to take care of you. My father doesn’t believe in such things, but my mother does, and if she were here, I know she would say that me finding you, Tes, was the will of the Force.”

Rey falters for a moment, lost in memory. Another time, another place, and something else that had been the will of the Force. A vision. Lovers entangled. She swallows heavily, shrouding herself in the dark side, stuffing that insufferable waking dream back into the glacial crack from whence it came. Tears escape her eyes, and when she comes back to reality, Sarif is incredibly close and holding both of her hands in one of his, and cupping her cheek with the other, wiping away the traitorous tears. There’s just too many feelings inside, and she feels as though she’s going to burst, and she moves forward to press her lips to his. The contact sends a thrill down her spine and she leans in closer, he’s momentarily shocked but quickly realises what she’s doing and enthusiastically kisses her back, inhaling sharply through his nose with excitement. His lips are soft, his kisses tentative, and after several minutes they increase with urgency and his fingers are tangled in her hair and oh, the feeling of his hands on her body is _glorious._

Another cool breeze comes billowing through the window, and Rey shudders again. He pulls away, breathing heavily, handsome face flushed, and eyes darkened with passion. “Tes, it’s cold,” he traces her jawline with his calloused hands. “Get inside, I’ll be there soon.”

She can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, and she skims his consciousness again. He thinks her tears are for _him_. He thinks he’s falling in love with this angel from the skies. _You know nothing, Sarif,_ she shakes her head imperceptibly, before closing the window. She catches a glimpse of his hardness bulging through his pants and wonders how she could possibly evoke such a response from anyone.

Needing the distraction, she draws her own bath, the steam filling up the ‘fresher and after removing her tattered clothes and bandages, she climbs into the warm water and audibly moans with the pleasure. She’s been aboard the cruiser _Virulence_ for several months, and it boasts high-tech sonic showers, water-saving devices that shoot high-pressure jets of water and steam, and it’s _nothing_ compared to the splendid ecstasy of being submerged in a soothing, hot bath, even one with chipped porcelain and a leaking tap. The burns on her shoulder and arm have healed well, the bacta-salve Sarif had used worked a treat, and although the hot water stings at her pink, tender skin, she opts to ignore the pain because the pleasure of a hot bath is so _worth it._

When she’s scrubbed clean, thoroughly soaked with wrinkled hands and the water starts to go cold, she begrudgingly exits the tub, and dries herself off with the unfortunately harsh and threadbare towels on offer.

Sarif knocks on the ‘fresher door. “I was going to draw you a bath, Tes, but it sounds like you managed fine on your own. I bought you some clothes.”

Rey, feeling very relaxed, boldly opens the door completely, presenting herself wearing naught but a towel before Sarif, and she retrieves the clothes from his arms.

“Are these your mothers?” she enquires, all too pleased with his slack-jaw and his roving eyes.

“My… sister’s,” he swallows hard, pink flushing his cheeks. “I should… get started on – supper.”

She hears his stomach growl. “Yes, you should,” she chuckles lightly.

He’s flustered, and frozen in place until she nudges him, and he awkwardly shuffles out the door, leaving her to get dressed. She hears him rummaging about the kitchen, mumbling to himself.

All she can think about is that kiss in the window, the way he looked at her half-naked form, and the kindness with which he tended to her wounds, the wondrous way he called her a fallen angel, that the Force had brought them together.

She’s not one to believe in fate, that destiny is out of one’s control, but she does believe that some things are the will of the Force.

Perhaps she was meant to come to this place, to see this humble family home, to see the struggling working-class up close to steel her resolve in using the First Order’s acquisition requirements to simultaneously help people like Sarif and his family.

Coming to the realisation, that yes, this was meant to happen, Rey makes a choice. She’s never been kissed by anyone before, never had anyone look at her that way, and never felt such warmth inside at being touched. She wants that precious farm boy in the most intimate ways, to explore his body, to take advantage of this predestined meeting, to feel something other than darkness.

Some people, she knows, consider lovemaking to be a practise with which the woman gives up a piece of herself to the man. But Rey doesn’t believe that nonsense. Besides, despite her ragged beginnings, she’s spoiled something chronic, and she’s not much of a giver. She’s going to take what she wants, like usual.

The thought sends shivers down her body, and she presses her thighs together as if it will relieve some tension building there, but it only compounds it. All she can think about is how she’s never done this before, but that she wants it bad, wants to feel a connection to someone, to not feel lonely, to not feel hatred or apathy, just to be held and to be wanted.

After a meagre supper of stew and starch rolls, Rey seduces him.

It doesn’t take much work on her part, Sarif already been just as aroused and eager as her. It’s the first time for them both, a little clumsy, frenzied, a little painful for Rey, but ever so thrilling just the same. When he finishes first, he’s just so sweet and apologetic, and she guides his hands to touch between her thighs and stroke her folds and rub the swollen nub of her clit where the pressure is most coiled, hot, and tantalising, and several minutes later, she’s soaring through the stars, at one with the Force and ethereal in presence, lost in ecstasy and so, so _at peace._

_So, this is serenity,_ she smiles, feeling both heavy with Sarif on top of her, and light as though she’s floating on a solar wind, a hundred thousand miles away.

Inadvertently, she senses a brief, familiar presence, and it’s gone as quickly as it came. Kylo Ren. The sense of his fleeting presence somewhere across the galaxy feels like cold water rushing over her flushed body, and she’s lost in the memory of her escape – bloodied, burnt, bruised, and broken she’d called for his help, and he’d shut her out. Then again, she’d been nothing but a cruel snivelling brat since Bardotta; so _of course,_ he shut her out, when she needed his help. The irony is not lost on her.

“Tes?”

She comes back down to solid ground and finds blue eyes, the wrong eyes, staring deep into hers.

“That was incredible,” Sarif whispers, his voice husky and full of promise. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“And I you,” she lies, imagining in her wildest of fantasies dark brown eyes and a deeper voice telling her the same thing. _Foolish girl,_ she chides herself, and imagines tossing that unwelcome thought through an airlock into the cold vacuum of space.

She falls asleep in his arms, revelling in the warmth and closeness, remembering every detail and every sensation – because for all the rapture and peace, she knows such a thing is not meant to last.

In the middle of the night, while Sarif sleeps soundly, she makes her way to the terminal in the living room and brings up the harvester stats. She mutes the program, so it doesn’t make a noise, and starts expertly typing away through the data, the settings, the maintenance schedule, outstanding faults, and remote controls. There’s little security to stop her from hacking into the systems of all the mega-harvesters, and she’s delighted to discover that they all run on the same network, all part of a mechanical ecosystem, a slightly flawed design that she eliminated in the production of the new harvesters off-world. Her backup plan has fallen into place. She copies the transmission codes and coordinates of each harvester and puts them into a single file awaiting transmission. She steals the family’s long-range transmitter and heads quietly outside to attempt to communicate.

“This is Blackbird, code 1576-beta-storm, come in, over.”

Silence. She heads further out into the crops, away from the house structure and surrounding equipment, hoping for a clear signal.

“This is Blackbird, code 1576-beta-storm, come in, over.”

She repeats this several times, waiting for almost fifteen minutes before she gets a response.

“We read you Blackbird, this is the _Virulence._ ”

A miniature holo of a First Order officer shows up on her transmitter.

“I’m sending you some data files, ready to receive?”

“Affirmative.”

She transmits the files, and moments later she hears his voice again. “Files received Blackbird.”

“Good.”

“We weren’t expecting to hear from you until tomorrow, have the negotiations wrapped up?”

“The negotiations were delayed, when the councillor scum tried to kill me,” she spits.

“They _what_?”

“They killed squad of stormtroopers and threw thermal detonators into the meeting room.”

“Murderous snakes!” the officer exclaims wildly. “Milady are you injured?”

“My pride more than my body, Captain,” she insists. “I need you to retransmit those files to General Hux along with this message.”

“Recording,” he says moments later.

“General Hux, my friend, I’m afraid negotiations have turned sour on Uquine. The Councillors tried to have me killed. You are aware of my backup plan, which I hoped wouldn’t be necessary, but I can’t let my efforts go to waste, nor let this misconduct go unpunished. I’m sending you a data file of the coordinates and transmission codes of all seventeen mega-harvesters on Uquine, and with the Supreme Leader’s approval, I implore you to make haste to the Colonies and wait for my signal. The Uquine system will have no choice but to accept control, and the rest of the Colonies will _bow_ to the First Order.”

“Sent, Milady.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall I send a shuttle for you?”

“No. I’m not finished here. Send me a commlink, tac-gear and my weapons and BB9-E in a pod two clicks south of my coordinates.”

“Understood, we’re in orbit and can have them dispatched within two hours.”

“Actually-” Rey observes the light spreading over the edge of the horizon. “Make it tomorrow night, two hours earlier. I won’t risk it during daylight.”

“Yes Milady. Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck, Captain. The Force is with me.”

“Of course, Milady. My apologies. _Virulence_ out.”

 


	11. Part Two: Clarity

Kylo’s heavy breathing electrifies the air around him with the dark side of the Force, the entire maintenance control panel has been decimated and the maintenance droids have been hacked into dozens of tiny unrecognisable components. Smoke fills his nostrils and makes his eyes water, and what remains of the electronics spark and sizzle, barely clinging to life.

He’s standing alone in his quarters, as he extinguishes his saber, left in silence punctured only by the pop of severed electronic connections and the sound of his shuddering breaths.

Hux’s hologram is long gone, but his voice, the orders still echo through his mind.

Prepare for assault on the Uquine system. Lady Snoke attacked on diplomatic mission.

It’s playing over and over in his mind, like some waking nightmare he can’t escape. She’s been _hurt._ “No…” he mutters to himself, over and over. “No, no, no.” He _failed_ her.

She reached out to _him,_ desperate for help and he _shut her out._

_Stupid!_

The melted electronics do nothing to quell his self-loathing, his guilt, his rage. He wants to _punch_ something, to crush, to hurt, to _kill._

Yes, that’s it, he just needs to kill the people who dared to hurt her. He needs to make them so afraid they soil themselves, then he needs to make them suffer, and he needs her to see it, to know that he’s sorry. Because saying the words won’t suffice. But he’s never been big on words anyway. He’s more of a doer than a talker.

He knows she pretends to loathe him but doesn’t understand _why._ For his part, he plays along. It’s been exhausting living up to her expectations, hoping with time she will be emotionally mature enough to placate her distaste and irrational behaviour. When the time comes, he will meet her halfway, to end the pointless feud. Meanwhile, she’s still the Supreme Leader’s daughter, and grudge or no, her protection is implied in his mandate.

Leaving the smouldering mess behind, he storms to the bridge, and sees that the staff are all on full alert, the room filled with chatter as they prepare for the jump to lightspeed, with General Xanos in command.

“General Xanos,” he stalks onto the bridge, and several officers scramble out of his path. “How soon can we be underway?”

“We have the coordinates and are prepping for lightspeed. ETA two hours and forty-three minutes. We’ve coordinated to exit hyperspace at the same time as The Finalizer and the Harbinger.”

“Where is her escort ship?”

“She didn’t have a star destroyer as her escort. She had a dissident-class light cruiser, the Virulence. One pilot, two officers and one squadron of troopers from the TL corps.”

One breath. Two. He clenches his fists again. “Why was Lady Snoke on a planet friendly to the New Republic without an entire battalion on standby?” the anger is rolling off him in waves, unsettling the entire bridge. Everyone shifts slightly in their seats, averts their eyes from the wraith in their midst. Someone in the pits announces the jump to lightspeed, and seconds later, the ship lurches and enters hyperspace, sending stars streaking by the viewscreen.

“In her defence,” General Xanos cocks his head thoughtfully. “Bringing a war machine to every planet would impede her efforts as an Ambassador. And who would have thought any government of the Colonies would be stupid enough to provoke the First Order?”

“It will be the _last_ time any government of the Colonies thinks they can provoke the First Order.”

“General Xanos,” a dark-skinned woman with a bob-haircut speaks from behind her comm desk. “General Hux making contact for Master Ren.”

“Patch it through,” Kylo commands, and Hux’s holo image stands on the bridge before him.

He’s almost as tall as Kylo Ren, but far sharper-looking with impeccably pressed uniform with elegant edges, not a hair out of place, and a sneer that he’s spent his entire life perfecting.

“Ren,” is his clipped greeting. “I have orders from Leader Snoke. You are to lead the Knights to collect Lady Snoke. I’m transmitting her coordinates. You’ll need to take her to the Capital, so she can wrap up the negotiations and I want you to see to it personally that the ones responsible for her attempted assassination are destroyed.”

“Why not destroy their capital from orbit? Such a demonstration would destroy the traitors and fear would keep the rest of the Colonies in line,” he poses. He’s not one for condoning force with excessive collateral, but sending a clear message supersedes whatever streak of stubborn moral conflict he can’t seem to eradicate within himself.

“For reasons that will not be clear to you, yet. Get the Supreme Leaders Daughter, take her to the Capital, execute the traitors. Are those clear enough orders for you, Ren?” The transmission ends, and Kylo is left on the bridge feeling very much like he’s been scolded by his father. He’d very much like to transfer to the Finalizer to see if Hux has the nerve to goad him face to face. Another time perhaps. He has a task to do.

“Prepare my ship,” he snaps at the closest officer and storms out of the bridge, to brief his Knights on their new mission.

* * *

 

The shuttle is being fuelled, and the bridge advises they are approximately one hour from their destination. The hangar bay is buzzing with activity, and he can hear the feint rhythm of fuel pumping, maintenance droids tinkering, and a distance voice of the chief giving orders to the hangar crew.

Kylo sits alone in the shuttle, meditating, preparing to face her again. The well-raised boy within him tells him he should apologise to her, but he imagines cutting that boy down with his saber. Apologies mean nothing to him. No one ever apologised to him for all the missed birthdays, the fights, his disappointingly absent father, being left home alone with the droids. No one ever gave his feelings a second thought when he was dragged along to ambassadorial parties with his mother and when they sent him off to train with Uncle Luke. No one ever apologised for what happened the night his former Master came to murder him in his sleep. No one ever came looking for him afterwards. No one ever asked if he was okay.

Apologies mean nothing to him, not at all, so he won’t be giving her one. Actions speak louder than words, anyway.

He will collect Lady Rey, take her to the Capital, watch over her while she hatches whatever backup plan she has concocted with Hux, and destroy those who tried to kill her. That will suffice.

He’s meditating, trying to find a serene place in the Force, when he feels her again. It’s unexpected, and he jumps at the chance to communicate with her, to tell her he knows what happened, he’s coming, he’ll be there soon.

He follows the familiar signature, an alluring, immaterial strand, crimson in colour, dancing through the Force like a silk ribbon floating in zero gravity. She’s so close. He reaches for her, and suddenly wishes he hadn’t, as a wave of pleasure pulsates through him and he hears the sound of her moaning… in a way he _really_ hadn’t expected to hear from her. Ever.

He snaps their connection closed, so hard he slumps back into his seat, left breathing heavily and somewhat _aroused._ Their brief connection lasts barely three seconds, but he knows exactly what she’s doing. He runs a hand over his face and snarls at the empty shuttle around him, wondering if she even has the slightest comprehension of her power, of its potency, its reach. Probably not, he decides, given that the Supreme Leader himself has expressed his displeasure, on more than one occasion, that she’s spending too much time planet-side and not enough time training on the _Supremacy._

Snoke is wise to see the danger there. The dark side is at work within her, moulding her into something incredible, it is her destiny, the will of the Force – just like him. The darkness feels cold at first, but with time, it’s like an old friend embracing you in its warmth. But to Rey, untrained and undisciplined, as she gets older and her power grows – the emotions will become too difficult to brandish. She stands on the precipice of a great ledge, over a bottomless pit of unimaginable power, and if she’s not careful, she’ll drown in it, and never resurface.

The fact that she’s willingly given into the temptation of passion at such a young age and without hesitation – it’s plainly clear she’s not wielding the darkness. The darkness is wielding her.

If she’d been properly trained, she wouldn’t be in her precarious situation right now.

The Force feels calm around him. Too calm. There’s a storm coming.

He just doesn’t know whether it’s going to be his doing or hers. But it’s coming nonetheless.

He breathes deeply, willing his heartrate to slow and shake the echoes of Rey’s high from his senses. He clears his mind of the fear of the incoming storm, of the embarrassment of catching the edge of Rey’s – _pleasure …_ and finds in the absence of those feelings something colder and more familiar. Anger.

Not at Lady Rey.

But whomever has the audacity to take her to bed, whoever thought they could take her in _that_ way, whoever thought that she could belong to them. She’s too young. She belongs to the Supreme Leader, to the First Order, and by extension, to _him._ Not to some farmer on some forsaken colonial rock. If Kylo had known, had an inkling of what was to come, he’d have dragged her back to the _Supremacy_ kicking and screaming, locked her away and stood guard at her door so she would never have to experience the wickedness of men.

His fisted hands start to shake, and the still shuttle gives a gentle shudder beneath the weight of his hatred. But in the blinding haze of his rage, he finds purpose and clarity. Whoever this boy is, he will die.

He’s just as guilty as the rest of them.

 


	12. Part Two: Rescue

They sleep together twice more, Rey takes Sarif the next morning and again after their meagre evening meal, her passion untameable and strength ignited. She uses the desire to fuel the fire raging within, a new source she’s tapped into since bedding the handsome, sweet farmer boy. She’s going to use it to bring Uquine to its knees and the rest of the Colonies. Rey Snoke doesn’t bury her emotions, she lets it storm inside and uses it to channel the dark, because lovemaking without love is just enthusiastic shagging and after the third time she’s too jaded by the strength borne of passion that she doesn’t quite care about the consequences or dangers to come.

There’s consequences if her enemies find out about Sarif harbouring a fugitive.

There’s danger in heading back to the Capital.

There’s potential consequences for unprotected sex, something she’ll have to make a trip to the med-centre about upon her trip home.

There’s looming danger for the reprimand that’s waiting for her back at the Supremacy should she fail to recover the negotiations.

Consequences and danger, indeed, because the will of the Force aside, Lady Rey Snoke _hates_ uncertainty, and that’s all her future holds. There’s a shape of her destiny, and it’s anything but solid and clear, more like a misshapen blackened nebula torn apart by solar winds and forever shifting, rising, collapsing.

And of course, like a satellite passing over the sun and casting a small and inescapable solid shadow, there’s Kylo Ren. Try as she might to keep her distance, he’s always just… there. She hasn’t seen him in months, but she knows he’s coming. It’s an assumption more than a feeling, because the Force feels too quiet right now, too calm, like a still ocean beneath clear skies, right before a meteorite makes planetfall and destroys it all.

It’s late now, or early, and Rey pushes Sarif into a Force-sleep, ensuring he won’t wake for several more hours, before she ventures out into the night, awaiting the inbound pod with her supplies. She waits and waits, in the night, in the fields, for a sign of her pod. It doesn’t come.

Then suddenly, a crack, like the sound of a vibro-whip, but distant, and another and another. She looks up and sees the angular outline of three Resurgent-class Star Destroyers in orbit, stark black against the stars and barely visible, except that she knows what to look for. Then, her pod comes streaking through the atmosphere, landing in the fields a short distance away.

“About time,” she runs off towards it. She finds the tiny smouldering crater in the irrigation canal, and BB9-E, a black BB astromech droid with chrome plating comes whizzing out to greet her enthusiastically. She strips naked in the field and pulls on her tac-gear, a black, skin tight tunic with a high collar, black tights, boots, and belt, blaster, and two vibro long-knives strapped to her back. BB9-E in an unusual routine she’s practised with the spherical droid, uses its mechanical arm with tools that serve as makeshift fingers to twist Rey’s long tresses into a single, tight braid. She clutches her black hood in one hand as she hears the engines of a familiar shuttle approaching. She turns to see the Upsilon-class ship heading towards the house, and as it passes overhead, she bolts at top speed through the tall crops back to the farm house.

She feels _him_ before she sees him.

She’s too late by the time she arrives, leaping out of the tall grass into the farmhouse front yard, where the shuttle has parked, and she comes to a graceless stop, right in front of him. The Force of his anger nearly knocks her back, and he turns his masked visage towards the farmhouse, silently assessing, thinking, surveying, before returning his gaze back to her. He takes two steps closer, bearing down on her smaller stature and clenches his fists at his sides. The darkness emitting from him surges through her like a red-hot branding iron to her heart. After being so far away from him, for so long, the intensity of his rage is excruciating, but she’s not sure exactly to whom its directed at, until he makes himself perfectly clear.

“The boy must die,” he says softly to her, his tone quiet and assuring, but final. She wonders why he’s speaking in undertones, and then she sees the rest of the Knights of Ren waiting in the shuttle, out of earshot.

“He saved my life,” she implores.

“That’s not _all_ he did.”

It takes one heartbeat for her to catch his meaning.

_He knows._ How, HOW can he know? She thinks back, wondering when she’d been so careless, when she’d possibly let her guard down… and all she can come up with is the unrestrained heights of her orgasm, when she’d thrown herself wide open to the Force. And had she not sensed something else out there, if only for a moment or two? _Kylo…_ she grimaces. The magnitude of what she’s done feels like she’s being crushed from the inside, and she can barely breathe. This is _her_ fault.

“I…,” she begins but can’t form the words. “I didn’t realise that you… that I could-” She can’t finish her sentence; her cheeks are burning with embarrassment and she can’t meet his unfaltering stare.

“You need to let go of what you _think_ you can do, and what you _think_ to be possible and embrace the truth that’s so plainly in front of you, that you refuse to see.”

She shakes her head at him, puzzled. “What truth?”

“That your powers could be limitless. Why do you think Snoke _chose us?”_

She wants to wipe that all-knowing, superior expression off his face, the one hidden behind the mask but she knows is there. He’s stronger and wiser and he kriffing knows it. She feels indignance simmering to the surface and she grinds out, “It’s just a meaningless dalliance.”

_That assessment is not up to you, you don’t get to make that choice, your position holds you to higher standards, love is weakness, you’re too young to understand, duty comes first…_ some selection of those words are on the tip of his tongue, and she knows it, so she cuts him off.

“As if your precious Knights of Ren have never screwed anyone on shore leave. We’re leaving. He poses no threat. He’s no one,” she commands and stalks towards the shuttle. The girl that slept with Sarif wasn’t the Supreme Daughter, she was a refugee named Tes, and has swept in and out of Sarif’s life like a leaf on the wind, and they’ll never see each other again. He’s just a simple farmer, like his father before him, and the next generation to come – and for that, he doesn’t deserve to die.

Several of the Knights have turned to stare at Lady Rey. She knows she looks a fright, battered, and bruised, barefaced with dark circles under her eyes, but she doesn’t quite give a damn and she’s the Supreme Daughter, how _dare_ they look at her with pity or curiosity. They are lower than the ground beneath her feet, and she won’t let their informality slip.

“What the hell are you looking at?” she snarls with unhinged contempt, startling them into action as the shuttle doors close and the craft gives a gentle jolt as they begin the take-off sequence. As they start flying high through the atmosphere towards the Capital, she gives command to the pilots and explains that she wants them to land at the steps of the Council Chambers, a large square building in the city’s dead centre, approaching from the south; before she resumes her seat at the back of the shuttle, as far as she can from her reprehensible escorts.

She closes her eyes in brief meditation, guilt-ridden for leaving Sarif without so much as a goodbye. Several minutes into their journey, she’d hoped the feeling would dissipate, but it doesn’t, and she chuckles darkly to herself. Funny how she’d gone from being carefree, emotionally expressive, and unburdened; to cold and repressed the very moment Kylo Ren stepped in. She takes the guilt and buries it deep within, stuffing it into the crevasse where she hides all her weaknesses and fears. Absently, she wonders if perhaps one day the abyss will burst at the seams and all her nightmares will come pouring out. “Not today,” she says to herself.

She feels Kylo Ren approaching to sit next to her, three seats between them.

“I don’t think they like me much,” she quips, gesturing to the cloaked Knights at the rear of the shuttle.

“I can’t imagine why.”

She allows him a smirk, cognizant of the hazard of familiarity, then assumes her usual expression of indifference. “I sent for a bombardment, not a rescue party. Did my Father send you?”

He shakes his head. “Hux.”

She sighs, then. “I don’t know why, he knew the plan, I needed him to target the harvesters, not to have me _collected.”_

“Initial reports said that you were injured.”

“I was. I’m fine now.”

Silence. She feels the question looming as he removes his gloves and turns them over in his palms. “When you were attacked, hurt _,”_ he begins, masked face looking squarely at the exit ramp and specifically _not_ at her. “Did you reach for me?”

“… yes,” she admits hesitantly. “I didn’t know what else to do, my stormtroopers were dead, they’d destroyed my ship, I had no commlink. I was…”

“Afraid,” he finishes for her, and she nods.

“Yeah.”

“It takes an extraordinary amount of power and focus to reach that far. You are unpractised. The effort could have killed you.”

“It wasn’t my primary concern at the time.”

He nods in understanding, and after a few moments of silence, he speaks up again. “Why me?” She’s floored by his simple question fraught with meaning. She wants this conversation over, it’s becoming precariously friendly and familiar as it is. “You could have contacted the Supreme Leader, he would have heard you. Why me?”

“Because my Father would have shelled this planet into oblivion. I need to finish this trade deal,” she shakes her head and looks away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She exhales heavily, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, and rubs her hands over her make-up free face. “The Uquine system is the pinnacle of agriculture in the Colonies. It makes up for eighty percent of the food supply and forty four percent of agricultural trade with the Hosnian System. If we succeed in bringing Uquine under control, the First Order will have a reliable food supply and transport network that will last a hundred years, which is the projected limit of sustainability until the planets resources are depleted. With control, we can abolish their trade partnership with the Core Worlds and force the New Republic out of the Colonies. With careful diplomacy, a strong hand and a little fear, the remaining Colonial systems will bow to First Order control.”

He looks at her sideways, considering. “You want to spare the traitors.”

“I don’t _want_ to. I _have_ to. I need twelve signatures to make the trade deal legal. There are twelve Councillors. Although I suspect only three sought to have me killed. I’m sure they’ve broken several laws, it wouldn’t take much to convince the Uquine Council to have them executed on the grounds of conspiracy – but that would take weeks and they’d insist on conducting their own investigation.”

“Intergalactic law protecting ambassadors on diplomatic missions dictates that they committed treason, punishable by death. I’ll see to it myself.”

“ _That’s_ why Hux sent you,” Rey realises, and his posture stiffens in unequivocal discord. There’s no changing his mind. She might have spared an innocent farm boy from the wrath of Kylo Ren, but she can’t spare the inevitable collateral when he slaughters the Councillors. She at least wanted to spare the half who’d taken her side before negotiations turned aggressive, it seems a waste of good political rapport. But he’s got orders, and even if he didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to stop him. “Would you kindly restrain yourself until they sign my trade agreement?” she asks.

“As you wish,” his tone unusually placid and subservient. It’s an odd behaviour for him, and she can’t sense an ounce of sarcasm.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make me feel better,” she scoffs in disdain.

He shrugs.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you do that?” she narrows her eyes at him. “We’re supposed to hate each other, remember?”

He pauses before answering, his response is careful and considered. “Not today,” he replies. “Tomorrow you can hate me again, but today you will let me do what is necessary.”

“I don’t need your help,” she insists.

“Says the girl stranded in the countryside. I could take you back, let you walk to the city?”

_There’s_ the heavy sarcasm she’s become accustomed to. “It’s my shuttle,” she says with an eye roll.

“It is mine, actually,” he counters, hesitating a moment before adding, “General _Hux_ has commissioned a new one for you.”

She chooses to overlook the way he sneers General Hux’s name like he’s a thorn in Kylo’s side. Although, he probably is, knowing Hux is a stickler for protocol, advancement, and cares little for the Force or the Knights extra-military status. “Some girls get cake and pretty things for their birthdays. I get diplomatic missions, assassination attempts and new shuttles.”

“ _Some_ girls get nothing,” he admonishes.

“I just meant it would be nice to be someone else…” she trails off, unsure where she was even going with that sentence, and he’s not sure either. But thankfully he says nothing in response. After a moment’s deliberation, she decides it would have been nice, on her birthday, even just for one day – to be someone else, someone unimportant, unremarkable, and forget about politics, war, prophecies, and the Force. She thinks about the Sith Code, about victory and broken chains. _The Force shall set me free,_ she muses to herself. _So, I can live my life breathing recycled air in space and never have any fun ever…_

 

 


	13. Part Two: Vengeance

Kylo Ren is seated carefully near Lady Rey, three seats keeping them apart, when he senses a shift in her demeanour. Perhaps she’s just tired, she looks a little worse for wear, and she’s lost a bit of that fire inside her, almost completely relinquishing control of the situation to him. Perhaps they’ve reached a point of amicability. He’s waited for this day a long time, but at the same time, it feels too soon. Therefore, he realises, he must be very wrong.

There’s a stillness about her, and the Force around them. It’s like a veil being drawn over his eyes, and he can’t see properly.

It’s very frustrating.

She looks older than last they met. She’s beautiful, with her hazel eyes and chestnut tresses pulled into a braid that hangs over her shoulder. The handiwork is perfection in of itself, but little tendrils of her hair start to disentangle themselves from the braid, miniscule marks of defiance, an homage to the wild child inside. At that leather strip tied harshly at the end, it looks worn and tattered, and rightly so because it’s the same one he found on the floor in that corridor on D-deck aboard the Supremacy, the first time they met. He knows it’s the same one because he’d studied it more than he cared to admit, and it has a small notch in the leather one inch from the tail.

And isn’t _that_ just the strangest detail to remember?

More pressingly, why is she still wearing it? How has it lasted so long? Perhaps she not wear it every day. Perhaps she has an entire collection of matching hair ties, and this is merely coincidence. Perhaps he’s overanalysing the significance of a damn hair accessory. Perhaps it’s not even the same one, he just wishes it were, because the thought of her wearing something that he’d given her, it pleases him, appeasing some flickering boyish fantasy that wishes she would smile at him, and…

He wants to punch something.

He looks down at his trembling fist and thumbs the leather gloves he’s holding.

Then he remembers the _gift._

It’s a stupid idea, he should forget about it.

The minute he gets back to his quarters on the Finalizer he’s going to throw it in the trash.

They were an impulsive acquisition at a market in some trading outpost in the Mid-Rim, where he’d intimidated a terrified merchant for intel. Then he’d seen them. They were soft and sturdy, the right measure of elegance and practicality, black – _naturally,_ and feminine. So very… Rey.

A pair of long, black gloves made of leather and some other thick, sturdy material, stretchy and form-fitting, soft as silk – but strong.

The perfect birthday present.

He’s been so focussed on his missions lately that he’d forgotten about it.

Forgotten, until he’s sorely reminded by a kriffing scrap of leather at the end of her braid.

He hates this feeling of trepidation, of insecurity. It’s weak, it’s distasteful, and only Rey brings it out in him. He almost hates her for it… almost.

The whole idea is an exercise in futility, anyway. After today, she’ll be so far from him, and he won’t even get the option to present her with the gloves, regardless whether he possesses the courage to actually follow through on it. Is it too much to want to show a little affection in his otherwise wretched existence?

In an alternate reality where she accepts him and his choices, doesn’t begrudge him his duties and honour, where she’s as devoted to the Supreme Leader’s teachings as she is to himself and their working relationship – in this non-existent place, she loves his gift. They fit perfectly, and she looks amazing in them. She’s elegant in her severity and refined with the Force.

He sighs, shaking himself clear of those dangerous wistful thoughts.

Kylo can’t help it anymore than he can help the way planets move around their stars. He’s always been a keen observer of the Supreme Leader’s daughter – from the moment they met he was drawn to her, though his intentions were less than chivalrous. He’d planned to use her naivety, her position, and the loneliness he sensed within to gain her favour, and by extension, the Supreme Leader’s. The plan had smacked of manipulation, but he hadn’t counted on _liking_ the girl. Perhaps it was the will of the Force, perhaps it was his weakness, like the spark of light inside him that he strives in vain to snuff out. Seated so close to her, feeling her Force, the radiance of her aura, stronger as she gets older, he feels the spark of light in him flicker. He usually finds an outlet with which to smother it, but at the moment he simply can’t bring himself to care. He’ll deal with it later.

Enraptured and lost in thought, he startles back to reality when Lady Rey starts speaking into her commlink.

“How many squadrons?” she asks.

_“Four battalions,”_ he hears Hux’s irritating voice through the comm.

“That seems excessive…”

_“Not at all. Leave such matters to the High Command, Milady, you have important work to focus on.”_

“Quite right.” She bites back a retort, and Kylo knows she hates receiving a verbal reprimand from Hux, knows it well because he’s received one or two himself, and also been unable to retaliate. “Have you jammed their transmissions?”

_“Yes, Milady. It is usual protocol.”_ Now Hux sounds annoyed. Good.

“I apologise General, I’m just anxious to see this done.”

_“Apologies unnecessary Milady. You have our full support.”_

“I know,” she replies tentatively, and Kylo hears the nervousness in her voice and can feel tendrils of fear snaking from her, filling the space between them. In the heat of war, in the tense adrenaline that precedes dangerous missions and with her power and standoffish behaviour, it’s so very easy to forget that she’s only young. The duties of Ambassador have been thrust upon her shoulders, along with her father’s expectations, bound to General Hux with diplomatic puppet strings and having an endless ocean of power at her fingertips but not yet skilled enough to use it. The pressure must be overwhelming.

It was any wonder she sought comfort in the arms of an insignificant farmer boy.

He clenches his fists again, muscles in his jaw tensing and actively struggles to tamp down his rage.

The boy will still die for his indiscretion.

To allow otherwise is sheer heresy. No man, farmer or no, adolescent or adult, can partake in things that don’t belong to him and _live._

To **hell** with her orders.

He doesn’t report to her anyway.

She won’t see Kylo’s perspective, she’s far too narrow-minded to see that it’s necessary, but he takes comfort in the knowledge that hopefully everything is timed perfectly, and she’ll be en-route to the Supremacy and she’ll never have to know the boy’s fate. They say ignorance is bliss.

But hope is a fantastical luxury he doesn’t indulge in, and it’s a matter of certainly that she will hate him irreparably before the day is done.

He reaches out his mind to the Knights of Ren, giving them their orders. They are to take two squadrons back to the farmhouse, to kill everyone and destroy everything in sight. No mercy.

He tells his Knights it’s important to destroy any evidence of Lady Rey’s presence there, and any witnesses. It’s standard protocol after personnel extraction.

It sounds so convincing, he almost believes himself, almost believes that this is only procedure and there’s no personal interests at play, nothing motivating him beyond duty to the First Order…

The shuttle lands flawlessly in the courtyard before the steps of the council chambers. They are flanked by hundreds of stormtroopers, thousands more spread throughout the city, who have taken control of the capital, and Kylo lets Lady Rey take the lead. He knows the area is already secure and doesn’t begrudge her the need make her own entrance. He falls into step behind her, to her left and another stormtrooper takes point to her right. He recognises the delegation on his uniform – it’s DX4597. This stormtrooper never seems far from Lady Rey. He wonders why that is.  

“Milady, the DX Corps has been re-assigned as your guard,” DX4597 tells her.

“The entire Corps? Have I graduated from needing a squad to an entire battalion?”

“Our orders come direct from the Supreme Leader, Milady.”

She pauses at that, stops mid-stride, and turns to face the stormtrooper. She’s right to be surprised. The Supreme Leader doesn’t interfere with Stormtrooper movements or assignments. Such matters are left to Command.

“It’s not necessary,” she enunciates each word slowly, eyeing the stormtrooper carefully.

“If I might be so bold, Milady, perhaps the situation is more hostile than you realise,” the stormtrooper gestures towards the bruises that spread from her temple to her shoulder and down to her forearm. “I believe it _is_ necessary, as does High Command. And the Supreme Leader.”

Kylo wants to throw the stormtrooper across the courtyard for speaking out of turn, except that he’s right. Lady Rey was lucky to escape her assassination but next time she might not be so lucky, and her killers might not be so cowardly as to use explosives.

Suddenly the stormtrooper falls to his knees, hands at his throat gasping for air, rasping through his helmet. This is a new development, and it’s dark. He’s torn between shielding her from it and watching with awe as she draws on the power. The onlooking troopers stiffen, eyes front and reeking of fear, mixed with shock, with undercurrents of submission and a strong sense of unwavering loyalty. He wonders if the Imperial Stormtroopers treated his grandfather with such reverence. The Sith only propagated fear, and it’s one of the many contributions towards the Empire’s ultimate failure.

“Know your place,” Lady Rey says quietly and calmly, releasing her flexed fingers, and DX4597 crumbles to the ground, breathing heavily. He’s too near asphyxiation to reply, but she doesn’t wait for one anyway, turning back towards the Council Chambers and continuing to walk with renewed fervour.

Kylo follows, and reaches out experimentally, catching one of her thoughts astray before she throws up her icy barriers once more. She’s never force-choked anyone before, and the exhilaration is intoxicating. How can one action feel so liberating and elicit so much fear at once?

He knows exactly how that feels, too, and silently implores, begs for her understanding. No one knows what she’s going through better than he does, but no one has ever _tried_ to push him as far as Lady Rey. It’s an intricate pattern of movements, deliberate and orchestrated to keep as much distance between them as possible, ever since Bardotta.

Somehow, despite the misfortunes of his past, despite the insatiable rage that surges within him, nothing has ever infuriated him more than her. With his power, nothing is out of reach, he can take whatever he wants, but Lady Rey is just an enigmatic goal that he can’t reach, that he can’t conquer.

Of course, his irrational goal, despite the power of its motivation, will forever be unreachable if her enemies ever succeed in killing her before he has the chance to…

He breathes in deeply, exhaling through his nose, willing those impractical unwelcome thoughts away again.

His Jedi training tells him _patience…_

All his other instincts tell him to _destroy…_

Today, he will use both tools. First patience, then destruction.

_“Would you kindly restrain yourself until they sign my trade agreement?”_ she had asked so sweetly.

But of course, he will, but only to please her. It will be the last thing the Councillors ever do before they meet his sword.

Lady Rey walks into the Chambers, where the Councillors are being held at gunpoint. There is a conference table that has been randomly dragged into the foyer. Looking up towards the back of the spacious lobby, Kylo can see the charred remains of a room, scorch marks reaching from the destroyed doors in the aftermath of a devastating blast, the black sooty streams stand in stark contrast to the beige and yellow decor of the chambers.

He leaves Lady Rey with the rest of the villainous Councillors to close the trade deal. He’s heard enough political poodoo in his childhood, enough to last him to the end of his days. Besides, she doesn’t need him. The room is secure, the Councillors are unarmed and held at gunpoint. She’s safe.

He hears her speak into her comm, “Now!” followed by the tell-tale sound of sonic blasts through the atmosphere, and explosions like rolling thunder. She’s given the order for the Mega-harvesters to be destroyed. It’s an integral part of her plan, approved and for all he knows, completely orchestrated by General Hux. Kylo doesn’t understand how destroying the Uquine system’s means of industry will guarantee their loyalty, but then, he never involves himself in such strategic matters. It’s not his forte.

He walks up a flight of stairs towards the blackened room, doors blown off, bloodied patches clear of scorch marks, where he supposes her guard’s bodies had fallen. He steps over the threshold into the room, and the burning smell fills his nostrils, although the smoke has long dissipated. A few droids whizz about trying to clean up the mess, and they pay him no mind. There’s a lingering Force in this room, he realises, a real _fear_ and opens his senses to find it. To the eastern side of the room, it feels strongest. He finds the haunted flicker of fear and latches onto it. He opens his eyes as the room is knit back together, unburnt, unbroken, and full of life. The afternoon sun is bleeding red, the colour of his lightsaber, and Lady Rey stands alone, looking out at the sky with brilliant colours on display, an indiscernible expression on her face. She’s a little thin and pale, like she usually is, but looks a picture of health otherwise. Not the battered, bruised girl he picked up at the farmhouse.

The sound of blasters, shouting and the thud of bodies hitting the floor, as the stormtroopers outside fall against the closed door. Lady Rey retrieves her vibrodagger from beneath her skirt and positions herself near the door, out of sight so she can catch her attacker off guard. Kylo is breathing heavily, because he’s certain what happens next. The door creaks open, and two silver balls come bouncing in, lights flashing in alarm. Then he feels the fear, just as the realisation crosses Lady Rey’s face. The unequivocal, sheer terror he sees in her eyes is heartbreaking. He knows what it’s like to be so afraid. She acts quickly and desperately, using the force to push the thermal detonators to the other side of the room as she runs for the window on the opposite side. He follows her, and everything seems to happen in slow motion, as she dives through the closed window, glass shattering and cutting her, microseconds before the explosion follows, violently expelling her through the shattered window, flames licking at her back as she falls several stories and onto a passing speeder, eliciting a guttural cry of pain as her body hits the rear chassis. The memory falls away, and he’s left standing at a broken window in the blackened room. There’s tiny smears of red on the broken remnants of this window.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, how long he’s been staring at the bloodied spots on the window, how long he’s been seething, building his power, waiting for release, when a stormtrooper speaks, breaking his reverie.

“Sir, Lady Snoke says the trade deal is done. The high councillor has sent a transmission, open broadcast to the whole galaxy. Uquine has forged an alliance with the First Order.”

“Then it’s time for the traitors to die,” he says softly.

“Yes, Sir,” the stormtrooper retreats, and Kylo Ren storms out of the room, down the stairs to the waiting Councillors. One of them, a middle-aged man oozing charm and sophistication, is smiling at Lady Rey, pouring her a glass of champagne as they toast to peace and prosperity.

“Thank you, Councillor Dezzik,” she smiles sweetly back at the lecherous bastard. He’s first, Kylo decides.

The stormtroopers have locked the doors and Kylo pauses, wondering what to do with Lady Rey.

_Lady Rey,_ he growls, hoping she is open enough to hear him with her mind. Her eyes lock onto his. It’s a silent battle of wills, but she quickly concedes. She encircles the table slowly, and climbs the stairs, passing him and making her intentions quite clear as she seats herself on the top most step, overlooking the lobby, flanked by several of her new guards. There, she lazily leans back onto one elbow, crossing her legs and taking a slow sip of champagne, before gesturing at him to proceed.

She’s going to watch the slaughter.

_Good,_ he thinks. It gives his Knights time to complete their task and return the shuttle to the city, before she realises their absence. Having a revered audience present for his bloodbath fills him with renewed passion, and he doesn’t even try to supress the urge to show off. He starts with Dezzik, the middle-aged man whose eyes had roved on Lady Rey as he poured her wine, dragging him halfway across the table, neck exposed where he beheads him with one swift strike of his lightsaber. He feels the shock, followed by fear, followed by screaming – and they all run for the door. Stormtroopers fire back, blaster bolts landing deliberately at the Councillors feet to keep them from running, but not to give them the quick death that a blaster could bring them.

One of the Councillors, an older woman, bravely tackles a stormtrooper, attempting to abscond with his blaster, and in the scuffle, she suffers a fatal shot to the stomach, and she’s dead before she hits the floor.

He returns his attentions back to the simpering treacherous slime, cutting them all through one by one, until none remain alive. The dead-quiet chambers are filled only with his breathing, and the subtle shifting of the stormtroopers waiting his orders.

“Are you always so vicious and cunning or is it just for me?”

He turns to see Lady Rey with a saddened expression, eyes closed. He’s not sure what she’s doing exactly, but he can feel her drawing on the embers of terror in the room and gently _pulling_ at his feelings, as if trying to unravel him, like a mystery to be solved.

_We’re the same,_ is the surprising thought he catches, a fleeting whisper from her mind that he’s certain she never intended for him to hear.

He lowers his defences and she prods gently into his mind, not seeking memories, not invading thoughts, just revelling in the simmering rage she finds there at the surface. It’s incredibly soothing, feeling her energy glide along his, and he sighs inwardly. She notices his contentment and she sharply withdraws, suddenly embarrassed for her familiarity. She recoils, becoming something cold, distant, and untouchable.

Why, _WHY_ is it that every time it seems he’s making headway, she steps further from his reach? His fists curl in anger. Does she know what she’s doing to him? Does she even _care?_

She must sense the change his mood, the hostility shifting towards her, because she glares squarely back at him for several moments, before she gives up. She comes down the stairs, gripping the balustrade tightly and giving him a wide berth, stepping unceremoniously over the corpses and towards the exit. The stormtroopers move out of her way just in time as she blows the doors wide open with an impressive show of Force, and he feels the bile rising in his stomach as he sees the command shuttle touching down in the foreyard.

She freezes. The troopers exit the shuttle in the distance and he can sense her reaching out to touch their memories. She turns then and just looks at him. Hazel eyes lock onto his mask, brow furrowed and her solemn expression full of hurt and betrayal as the realisation hits her. Then, she bolts.

He’s not seen her run since she was younger and hadn’t even the slightest inkling of how fast she could move. By the time he reaches the main entrance to the Council chambers, stepping out into the sun-lit city, she’s already far out of reach. He shoots an arm out and tries to freeze her with the Force, but she’s so far away, she easily deflects his efforts, sending a scream back at him with her mind, and in that moment of shock, he realises two things.

One, that she cared deeply for the farmer boy, much more than she should – which only steels Kylo’s resolve. He was right, the boy _had to die._ He has no place in Lady Rey’s life, she is part of and belongs to the First Order. To Supreme Leader Snoke. THAT is where her duty lies, not in the arms of a nobody dirt-dwelling scumbag boy from Uquine.

And secondly, with her look of utter betrayal, and her scream of hatred, he knows Lady Rey will never forgive him for this.

He falters for a moment, wondering if it’s a price he’s willing to pay. No matter, it’s already done. He’ll live with it.

Maybe one day she will thank him for all he’s sacrificed, but that’s far too hopeful.

Hope has no place on the path he’s chosen. The path he’s trying so very hard to keep her on, for her own good.

She takes off in a TIE fighter.

The bright sky is dimmed suddenly as the clouds darken, and he feels the Force shift, danger prickling at his senses.

He runs to the command shuttle.

 


	14. Part Two: The Cost

* * *

 

 

**_REY POV_ **

_Beautiful,_ Rey thinks as she watches Kylo Ren destroy the Uquine Council. His moves are cold, calculating, and precise. He reaches into the minds of his opponents, sensing their moves before they make them, they can’t run, and they can’t touch him. He twirls his spitting lightsaber expertly, slashing up then spinning down in deadly arcs. It’s beautiful, but terrible. And necessary. At least that’s what she’s been told. That’s what she’s been raised to believe.

She looks at a fallen elderly woman, wondering how many grandchildren just lost their grandmother. Uquinian Farmers are notorious for big families with many children.

Where is the glory of battle, the artistic illustration of power? This – this is mindless carnage. The councillors have been rounded in a corral like a herd of cattle up for slaughter.

_This is wrong._

She tries to focus on the only sight in the room that doesn’t threaten to bring her to the brink of tears – Kylo. If she looks at him, admires his strength, his form – then the screams seem far less overwhelming.

Finally, he’s finished, and Rey is filled with a flood of relief. It’s done. The First Order destroyed the mega-harvesters and put Uquine in an impossible position. Denounce the New Republic, sign her trade deal and declare their allegiance to the First Order, and they would have exclusive and free use of the first, brand new Mega-harvesters off the production line, delivered by the First Order by the end of the week. Or they could refuse and watch their people die of starvation while the First Order allocated their entire fleet to blockade any trade with the Uquine system. They’d agreed to her terms, thinking somehow, that they were better off, overall, that they’d made a good deal. Some of them were even talking of their re-election next season.

But the government needs to be replaced. It had been a single line in the trade deal that they had signed – but failed to acknowledge. She’d made the addition to a subparagraph of text regarding environmental impacts, where they wouldn’t notice it.

And now they’re dead, paying the price for their treachery, for her pain and hurt. For the First Order’s wasted resources and for her _time._

When the relief passes, sadness fills the void. The room is stifling with other more intense emotions and she grasps for them instead, the lingering fear filling the room, and the anger and hate rolling of Kylo in waves, like a thunderstorm rolling in on the horizon. It’s strangely alluring, so she reaches for that as well, committing to memory the merciless way in which he dealt with his enemies. “Are you always so vicious and cunning or is it just for me?” she asks sadly.

Then he does something unexpected, it’s as though an ocean is parted between them, and he’s inviting her forward. She tentatively reaches for him, touching the edges of his mind. She finds no wall there, no resistance, so she enters and finds a black pool within, churning, swirling with his Force. It’s warm and familiar and… _“soothing,”_ He thinks it just as she is about to admit it to herself, and she realises the danger she’s in. Her vision. Her future, _their future._ She pulls out, back to herself and reality and throws up her icy walls quickly, they smack into place like an impenetrable glacier around her lake of turmoil and when she’s done, she opens her eyes and finds him glaring at her. His gaze is shielded behind his mask, but she feels it just the same. His anger has shifted to her direction and it’s unrelenting and strangulating. He’s too close. She storms out of the chambers before he can protest, throwing the doors open with the Force, and leaping out into the sunlight. She’s greeted by the sight of the command shuttle coming to land.

She didn’t know it had left. Why had it left, and come back again?

The ramp opens and the Knights of Ren exit, with a squadron of stormtroopers. Where have they been?

She reaches out to touch the minds of the stormtroopers and sees flashes of images. Burning pastures. Burning machinery. Burning farmhouse. Dead bodies. Kylo Ren giving them orders to _“Return to the farmhouse, destroy it and kill them all.”_

_Kylo, how could you?_ She feels so broken inside, and turns to see him inside the Council Chambers, shrouded in darkness and standing among corpses. He sees her. He knows that she knows. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t _care._

She turns and runs east, hurt and betrayal fuelling her strides as she pushes herself beyond the limits of what she’s physically capable of. Kylo Ren had told her that her powers were limitless. She doesn’t believe it, but she really wants to right now. Because she’s going to save Sarif, it’s not too late – it _can’t be_.

She’s beyond his reach, but not his line of sight when she feels him desperately try to tug her back with the Force. She retaliates and pushes back with a strangled cry and keeps running. Her DX guard is too far behind and can’t catch up. She reaches the makeshift airfield and leaps for the nearest TIE. She’s airborne before the cockpit has closed completely and doesn’t bother to adjust the seat or put on her safety straps. The TIE roars into the air and she punches the terror-evoking little fighter into the atmosphere, heading east towards the farmhouse. It’s not hard to find. It’s the nearest smouldering mess to the city’s east, and all the surrounding fields are on fire and a messed up mega-harvester is off in the distance, billowing monstrous clouds of black smoke.

She lands in the nearest clearing made by the fire and runs towards the farm house. She cries out desperately, “Sarif!” her voice broken from crying and all she finds left of the farmhouse is the wooden frame work, and even that is crumbling like bones to ash. She recognises the work of fire-troopers, blasters, and lightsabers.

There are seven corpses lain in front of the house, burnt beyond recognition. She thinks the tallest one is Sarif and supposes the rest of them are his returned family. He’s all charred skin pulled taut over blackened bones. There’s nothing left to save. Nothing left to heal.

She falls to her knees into the ashen dirt, and doubles over, burying her face in her hands and she cries, screaming until her lungs burn with the need for air, before taking shaky, cold breaths and beginning again. The fields are quiet, and her anguished cries are all that can be heard for miles, as they carry on the wind over smoke and crops.

She’s not sure how long she’s been kneeling in the soot, grieving for her lover and the terrible fate him and his poor, innocent family have met, when she hears the shuttle land close by.

And she remembers then. Kylo Ren did this, he _ordered_ this.

_“The boy must die,”_ he had said.

She’s somewhat relieved, she realises, that she doesn’t have to pretend anymore. She hates him, for real this time, and she feels his presence approaching from behind. Her skin turns to ice, and her heart is broken. She has no need for love and compassion, and the only thing she can feel is pure, unadulterated rage.

A memory presents itself, of her last training session with her father, some eight months prior. _“Daughter,”_ he’d murmured in his gruff, hypnotic tone. _“I feel the power building inside you. This is your destiny. Embrace it. Unleash it.”_

She stands, rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck with a satisfying pop.

_Embrace it._

She thinks about every time Kylo has infuriated her. Every time he’s overstepped his place, every time he’s overpowered her, every time he’s touched her. All those tiny little unwanted actions that have frustrated her to no end, and it culminates with this. He killed Sarif.

_Unleash it._

She turns and he’s standing closer than she’d like. She raises a single hand to him, and he takes a defensive stance to block her attack. “Rey,” he warns, and that breaks the last shreds of her sanity, and she unleashes everything she has at him, with a tormented shriek.

Blue electricity shoots from her fingers, and he goes flying a hundred feet backwards. She continues the onslaught, unleashing wave after wave against him, and his body is contorted in a satisfyingly pained manner. He cries out then, “REY! STOP!”

And a final effort on his part, he presses futilely against her mind. _“Rey you’re channelling too much power it’s going to kill you! Stop this now!”_ Then he screams.

Time seems to slow, his cries become distant as she focuses within, on the intoxicating feeling of immersing herself completely in an endless pool of power, the Dark Side of the Force she’s only ever skimmed before and now she drowns in it, revels in it. She’s never felt anything like it before. It’s so incredible, she’s puzzled when she feels pain. It starts to burn at her fingertips, then a pain sprouts in her chest, but it feels too good and she doesn’t want to stop.

“How can I let go of this?” she murmurs, mostly to herself, as she turns her palms up towards the sky. The darkened clouds become electrified, and an artificial storm starts rolling in circles around her. _This is me,_ she realises. _I’m doing this._

Then, the pain turns sharp, it’s overwhelming and it blocks her senses. It doesn’t feel so good anymore, but she just can’t stop. It’s like a door has been opened in her soul and it can no longer be closed. Her senses are overwhelmed, her nerves are seared, and they snap through her body, melting her core and twisting around her spine. There’s a high-pitched visceral cry echoing all around and her throat burns.

It takes her several long moments to realise she is screaming.

The light is gone, so far gone, she doesn’t know where she is, or what she’s doing or how she’s doing it – or how to stop. Something black and solid hits her and her breath is knocked from her lungs. The world tilts and she finally loses control. The lightning subsides. Everything hurts. All she can see is endless, brown, pleading eyes and that’s the moment she feels the light, letting the dark go. It seemed so impossible until now. Then the price for what she’s done weighs heavily on her mind and her body. Her severe lacerations have re-opened, the micro-sutures knitting her broken flesh back together have disintegrated, leaving her wounds open and bleeding. The bruises flare up again like she’s just been kicked and beaten by a mob of angry farmers. She’s shaking, overwhelmed, unable to move, unable to speak as her burns singe into her skin again, like she’s endured everything in that conference room over and over again, thermal explosions and flames licking at her.

She catches a glimpse of her eyes in the reflection of his watery ones and she sees they’re tinged yellow. _I’ve gone too far._

She rasps for air but it’s too painful to breathe, heaving with each effort, and she tastes blood.

“Stay with me, Rey,” his words are a struggle to get out, too, and she realises he is also in pain, because of what she’s done. The guilt tastes worse than the blood.

Everything becomes foggy. She’s detached from reality and floats away as several black figures approach to lift her body and carry her to the command shuttle.

_Sorry. Didn’t want. Hurt._ She reaches out with her mind to tell Kylo she’s sorry, she didn’t mean to hurt him – but rather than words it comes out some sloppy incoherent thought.

_“Rey, just focus, breathe. We’re getting you to help but you need to stay with me.”_

She wants to, but she feels too heavy, too pained, breathless, and weak. She’s never felt like this before but has read enough books and heard enough talk to know what dying feels like.

_“You’re NOT going to die. Not today. You’re supposed to start hating me again tomorrow, remember? We had a deal.”_

She smirks in spite of herself. She hopes her masked monster retains his sense of humour. He seems a little less himself without it. There’s just one more thing she needs before she gives in. She tries to stay awake long enough to – _Kylo, I don’t hate you._

Then the pain stops, and she slips away.

* * *

 

**_KYLO POV_ **

****

He’s never seen anything more beautiful and terrifying than Lady Rey embracing the power of the dark, and unleashing it, even if it’s at him, _because_ of him.

He’s not quick enough to stop her attack, and he’s hit with lightning and thrown a fair distance away. His body surges with electricity, coming in short bursts, enough that he can manage a few words between convulsing. “Rey! Stop!” he shouts. He doesn’t think she’ll forgive herself if she kills him. She falters, momentarily, and he notices something unnatural in her eyes, a glint of yellow, before she unleashes upon him again with an animalistic cry. She’s going too far.

It hurts more this time, his body is locked in a painful spasm, burning through every cell of his entire being, and he can’t manage words, so instead he desperately fumbles, reaches out through the force and projects into her mind. _“Rey you’re channelling too much power it’s going to kill you! STOP THIS NOW!”_ That’s all he manages before succumbing to the pain and letting out his own primitive roar.

For sure his Knights have heard his screams of pain and are on their way to investigate. Unless they know better than to stand between the two most powerful Force users, besides Snoke.

_“How can I let go of this?”_ he hears her wondrous, distant, ethereal voice in his mind, and she turns her hands up towards the skies, manipulating the clouds into a lightning-raged thunderstorm. It gives him a reprieve, long enough to decide what to do. She’s going too far, it’s going to kill her unless he can stop her. He’s not sure how, though. He admits he’s jealous of this new power she’s discovered suddenly, but he’s more afraid that she’s going to get lost in it. Then nothing will matter, and all his hopes will die with her.

She’s screaming now, the power is killing her, but she’s so intoxicated by it, she won’t stop. He knows the feeling, having experienced it himself once before, when he was young and just beginning to understand his raw, untamed power. He makes a hasty decision then, taking advantage of the narrow gap in her defences and charges towards her at full speed. He knocks her to the ground, and she’s left breathless beneath him. As her body falls beneath the weight of his, he hears bones crack. _Kriff._

He calls out with his mind, to his Knights waiting in the shuttle. Dutifully, they come running at their master’s call. He looks down at her, and her eyes are tinted an animalistic yellow and she’s afraid. Blood begins to stream from her nostrils, tears are rolling down her face and she’s getting feinter by the second and struggling to breathe. But it’s worse than that. Her bruises are redder, she’s bleeding from so many places he can’t tell where to apply pressure and she’s got fresh burns upon the days-old ones. It’s not good. He can feel her fading.

“Stay with me, Rey,” he pleads, his throat raspy from his own ordeal. _I can’t lose you._

He watches as her eyes glaze over and she’s struggling to stay awake. She’s lifted into someone’s arms and carried towards the shuttle. Two others help him to his feet and support him as they walk behind her. He watches as Rey’s arm falls limp at her side, her hand, a mix of burnt and paled flesh dangling… lifeless.

He reaches out to feel for her Force, but it’s frighteningly fractured and quickly fading.

There’s some half-formed thought, more feelings than words, incoherent and splintered. _I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you._ He grimaces, blinking back years because she wouldn’t say, think, feel something so candidly unless she…

No. He shakes his head. _“Rey, just focus, breathe. We’re getting you to help but you need to stay with me.”_

Her mental barriers are crumpled away, and he can hear everything she’s thinking. There’s extraordinary affection for him, leaking through as she clambers back to the light, and he lets her. Her strength wanes. She knows she’s dying.

_“You’re NOT going to die. Not today. You’re supposed to start hating me again tomorrow, remember? We had a deal.”_

She’s quiet, for a moment, then, like some rebellious declaration – as if taking her last moment to tell a superfluous truth. _Kylo, I don’t hate you._

Then she’s gone.

* * *

 

He’s never felt so useless, seeing Rey floating in the bacta tank, breathing tubes down her throat, sensors attached to her half-naked form, broken, and bruised. He’s shirtless, the medical droids treating his own burns and abrasions. Two of his Knights are also in the medical wing, one being treated for a blaster wound to his shoulder, and the other, the one whom carried Lady Rey at full speed to the med centre now hovers, unsure if he is needed, or awaiting orders, Kylo doesn’t know, or care.

He hisses as bacta gel is applied to a nasty electrical burn to his right arm, half complaining and half enjoying the pain. It feels right, somehow, that he should be the one hurting. It’s all his fault, after all. The sting abates after a few seconds, the momentary distraction gone, and he’s back to eyeing the monitor attached to her bacta tank. Every fifteen seconds, it flicks from one set of vitals to another, then back again.

There’s a distinct lack of brain activity. He doesn’t need medical training to see the absence of waves on the neural vitals monitor. He feels the fear radiating off the medical personnel in charge. None of them want to be here. None of them want to be responsible for reporting to the Supreme Leader that his only daughter is…

Kylo swallows, finding a fingerprint smudge on the inside of the viewport to suddenly be very interesting.

He catches a brief exchange of binary chatter between droids. The outlook isn’t promising.

The reprieve doesn’t last long before he’s back to staring at her still, floating form.

Because stars, she’s beautiful. Even in this form, this broken shell. The broken, comatose body of a teenage girl – she could be anyone, a civilian in a terrible accident, someone in the wrong place at the wrong time; or even, a slave sold to the worst sort of people, prisoned and tortured. But, she’s not. She’s _his._ And why not? She might as well belong to him if he’s taking the entire blame for this situation.

He was sent to protect her.

He wants to be free of this pain.

If he surrenders himself to Snoke, claims responsibility, maybe his master will kill him. Nobody fails the Supreme Leader so spectacularly and lives to tell the tale. Surely death is coming for him, but in the last few hours, he’s had time to think, that maybe, after today, after everything he’s done, maybe… he’s okay with that.

Rey will surely die, in time, and then he could be with her, in the Force.

He remembers accompanying her to Bardotta for the victory celebrations. He’d been eager for the assignment, wanting to protect her, to gain her trust. Perhaps he succeeded. Was it because she’d trusted him, in her innocence, that her death was now imminent?

An officer turns from the terminal nearby and addresses the Chief Surgeon. “Sir, Leader Snoke is making contact for Master Ren.”

The room is silent for three seconds.

Then, they all usher out of the room.

The two Knights come to Kylo’s side.

The officer patches the comm through, before too, stepping out of the room, and Snoke’s holo stands before him. All three of them Kneel.

He can see the Snoke’s transparent form, reflected in the glossy floors, reach a hand towards Rey’s bacta tank, trying to sense her. But the Supreme Leader only reaches the same conclusion as Kylo Ren, finding Rey’s mind void of any thought, feeling or colour.

_“Leave us,”_ Snoke orders the two Knights of Ren from the room, and they rise from their kneeled position and dutifully obey.

There is no emotion on the Supreme Leader’s wrinkled face as he turns back to his apprentice, bent onto one knee.

_“How’s your wound?”_ Snoke asks, gesturing to the stark white bandages that envelop Kylo’s entire right arm from the wrist to his shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” Kylo insists.

_“And?”_

“And I’m sorry Supreme Leader. I failed you.”

_“Oh,”_ he scoffs, in that mocking, derisive tone perfected with centuries of practice, giving a false sense of security but heavy with the threat of pain to follow. _“You were sent to retrieve my daughter and execute the traitors. And you, my faithful apprentice, have done no more or less than what was required of you.”_

Kylo frowns at Snoke, fleetingly, before lowering his eyes once more. “But…” he can’t bring himself to say it. _But she’s not going to make it._

Snoke takes a deep, wheezing breath, and his expression turns into a snarl _. “She was unbalanced and uncontrolled. This,”_ he points back to her lifeless form _. “Is her own doing. She’s a foolish child who cares more for playing Ambassador than learning to use her power.”_

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

_“Oh, but you still feel guilty,”_ he mocks in a falsely understanding manner.

It’s not a question, so Kylo doesn’t answer, but he knows his thoughts betray him in his master’s presence.

He chuckles then. _“You have **compassion** for her.”_

“She’s a valued asset, my master. I only sought to protect her. For your interests. For the First Order. For the dark side.”

_“Your compassion makes you weak,”_ Snoke reproaches with overt disgust. _“That is why you fail.”_

With that, the Supreme Leader ends the transmission, leaving Kylo on the floor, now on his knees in front of the only other person in the room, Rey. He hates kneeling. He does it for duty, for honour, because it’s the right and respectful thing to do, because it’s _expected_ of him.

What does it matter right now, anyway? She’s not really there, not in mind, not in spirit and definitely not in the Force. What’s he kneeling for? The shadow of an idea, some unattainable fantasy that is now so far away from him it’s beyond possibility, comprehension, and most _certainly_ beyond logic?

He stands and turns away from her floating form and seeks out the worry, the compassion, the grief within, and churns it over and over, turning it into something different. He dons his tunic, cloak, and mask, regards her one last time before leaving the medical wing, seething with anger, itching to release his torment with his lightsaber. He doesn’t look back.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Part Two. Not all is as it seems. Incoming fluff to compensate for much angst. Thank you for your patience and support.


	15. INTERLUDE: Sanitation

_“All units be advised fifteen minutes to start of cycle. Prepare for shift change.”_

The overhead lights flicker on the softest setting, bathing the room in a gentle, waking glow. The fluorescent tubes in the floor light up, and the alarm timekeeper on the wall beeps. Everyone groans and stirs in their cots. It feels like his head only just hit the pillow an hour ago, but it fact he’s been asleep all night, and dreaming of his job of all things. He dreams of the satisfaction of a perfectly polished floor, a sense of perfection that only lasts a short time before the first scuff comes along. He dreams of weapons training, dreading the day he’ll actually have to use those skills. He dreams of getting promoted to an officer’s position. He dreams of becoming Head of Sanitation. He dreams of not having the wear his helmet.

He strips in the fresher cubicle, and the hot spray starts automatically when he steps into the shower. His movements are methodical, precise with muscle memory. The antibacterial soap is cleansing and refreshing, waking him up as he lathers himself then lets the spray rinse his body clean. After three minutes, the water stops, and warm air comes through the vents, blasting his body dry with warm air. Then he wraps a towel around himself, steps out of the fresher and swaps places with one of his colleagues. It’s coordinated bathing, half of them brush their teeth and shave, and the other half shower, then they switch. Eight minutes later, the squadron is dressed in their bodysuits, pulling their armour on piece by piece.

_“All units be advised two minutes to shift change.”_

Faces disappear behind white helmets, all their personalities become erased, differentiated only by the designation on their breastplates.

He wonders, not for the first time, if the mask he wears every day his true self, or is it the expressionless dark-skinned man who greets him in the mirror each morning? Are they people with varied skills, instincts, and levels of intelligence – or are they just tiny insects that keep the hive alive, insignificant, expendable, and forgettable?

He mulls over these existential issues all the time. But he never gives his thoughts a voice. He knows better. They all do. One insubordinate utterance is all it takes to be sent for reconditioning.

He doesn’t think mopping floors, taking out the trash and restocking supply cupboards is worth doing, but neither can he imagine anything else worth doing. And _none_ of it is worth being sent for reconditioning, so instead he will do what he always does. Report for duty.

He’s training a new guy today.

“DX-9682 reporting for training,” the new guy says, with a salute.

“Don’t salute me 9682. I’m not your superior. You’ve got a lot to learn,” he chastises. “FN-2187,” he introduces himself and gestures for the newbie to follow him. “We’re on level ten, let’s go.”

They take the turbolifts to the top levels.

“This place looks like a med-centre,” DX-9682 says.

“It _is_ a med-centre,” FN-2187 says, “And keep your voice down. Pay attention, I’m only explaining this once. You got questions, shoot. But after today, you keep your mouth shut, unless you want to be sent to reconditioning.”

DX-9682 nods nervously, wondering what curiosities await him on the tenth level, that warrant such a warning.

“On the outside, it’s a First Order storage facility. Standard layout, security, all of it. But it’s remote, so it’s discreet. The top level has been converted to a med-centre. With one patient.”

“Who’s the one patient?”

“Leader Snoke’s daughter.”

Silence.

“Are you serious?” he whispers in a furiously high pitch.

FN-2187 falters outside the supplies room, turning and cocking his head to the side. “Man, _why_ would I make something like that up, huh?”

“I don’t know, I just thought…”

“Don’t. Think.” FN-2187 points a finger at DX-9682. “You know better. I told you, pay attention. You mess up – you’ll be reported, evaluated, and sent for reconditioning faster than you can say land speeder. You got it?”

“Affirmative,” DX-9682 stands a little straighter and gives a curt nod.

“It’s not so different from any other sanitation job, but you go over everything twice, every day, and you make sure you don’t miss anything. On the off chance the Supreme Leader comes to visit, you don’t want to be the stormtrooper responsible for a scuffed floor or an unemptied trash can, right?”

DX-9682 nods, affirmative.

“Right, so let’s get started.”

They go about their daily duties. The floors are scrubbed and polished, the trash is emptied, the linens are sent for laundering and diagnostics on all the droids and equipment are run. The damaged equipment is tagged for repair, the droids are sent for recharging after fulfilling their jobs and filing their service reports.

DX-9682 listens intently while the more experienced trooper explains the situation. Stormtroopers in stationed at a remote storage facility don’t get to hear many good stories, so the newbie listens with fascination.

A few months ago, Lady Rey Snoke was severely injured in an assassination attempt on Uquine. The collaborators were executed but she did not fully recover from the ordeal. She’s completely comatose and isn’t going to wake up. The Bardottan Government had long been friends with Lady Snoke and offered to care for her in her comatose state, in the Colonies close to the Core where expert physicians could have better access to their patient if her condition ever changed. It hasn’t.

The storage facility in the Bardottan mountains had its upper levels converted into a state-of-the-art medical facility for one. Only General Yentisch of the Bardottan government comes to visit, and only to inspect the facility.

Nobody ever comes to see _her._

“It’s kinda sad,” FN-2187 muses aloud. “Figure Old Snoke would come to visit his only daughter once in a while, but what do I know about family, right?”

DX-9682 chuckles. “I hear you, brother.”

“Yeah.”

Then the time comes for them to enter her room. DX-9682 looks nervous.

“Look,” FN-2187 offers. “You ever mopped the floor in a med-centre?”

DX-9682 nods. “Yeah, I was stationed on the _Harbinger._ ”

“Well this is no different. There’s always patients there, some awake, some asleep. This one’s asleep,” he says with a shrug. “Just follow my lead. Be quick, quiet and respectful.”

“Does anyone ever go in there?” DX-9682 asks.

“Of course,” FN-2187 answers. “Droids. Nurses come several times a day. A doctor visits once a week. And Kylo Ren, once.”

“Ren?”

“He was here the first two days when she arrived, as her security escort. He hasn’t been back since.”

They enter the room, and FN-2187 goes to start the floor polisher.

DX-9682’s eyes are firmly planted on the pale, sleeping form of the Supreme Daughter.

“Hey newbie. You remember thirty seconds ago when I said quick, quiet _and_ respectful?”

“Oh,” DX-9682, turning away, embarrassed.

They go about their cleaning duties, cleaning the unused ‘fresher, restocking the cupboards with clean linens, polishing the viewport, and mopping the floors using double doses of disinfectant to ward off bacteria and minimise the comatose girl’s risk of infection, as instructed by her nurses.

“One more thing, before we go,” FN-2187 walks to her wardrobe and opens it. “You want to check everything’s in order, that there’s nothing missing. Something goes missing, who do you think they’re going to blame first? You. So just count. There’s twenty-two things in here. Count them.”

DX-9682 counts the hanging garments, boots, and various other knickknacks inside the wardrobe, finishing with a First Order issue commlink and a pair of long black gloves. “Twenty-two,” he confirms.

Then they close the wardrobe, check the room once more before leaving. DX-9682 sneaks a glance at the sleeping girl seconds before the door closes. “I can’t imagine being powerless like that.”

“Yeah I know. I get it, man I do. It’s sad. But look at it this way, she’s getting looked after by good people. Be one of those good people. It might be a tedious job, but at least she’s easy to clean up after.”

“She’ll never thank us for it,” DX-9682 says as they enter the lift.

“I hate to tell you, soldier, but if you’re looking for recognition and thanks, you’re in the wrong job.”

They both chuckle as the doors close and they head back down for the shift change.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Short chapter here, it's quite tangent, but it felt right, so here we go. Just an interlude from the perspective of a stormtrooper we all know and love. I tried to nail Finn's personality. I hope I got it right. A thousand thank yous to everyone who has commented and left kudos. It's an honour to be a recipient of your kind praises, I hope when all this is over to be worthy of your time and effort.


	16. Part Three: Ghost

It’s been a few months since he walked away completely.

It had taken days of mindless wandering in and out of the med centre on the Supremacy, under the pretence of getting his own wounds tended to, despite the fact he could have done that with a med-droid in the comfort of his own quarters – just so he could check Rey’s status.

Her bruises changed colour, from angry red to deep purple, to yellow.

The burns changed from scorched flesh and blisters to rippled red patches, to pinkened skin.

The gaping lacerations became harsh streaks across her body, blackened with micro-sutures, and then became closed scars.

A week later they’d finally brought her out of the bacta tank, still comatose. He’d spent longer than he’d like to admit inside her mind, finding nothing but grey inside. No thought, no feeling, no memory, no Force. No Rey.

He’d worried about what would happen the longer she remained in the same condition. Would they destroy her body? Would they make him do it?

The following week, she’d been transferred to a med-centre on Bardotta. Not trusting anyone else to see to her protection, her comfort, Kylo accompanied her on the journey. At that point, he hadn’t heard from his Master in two weeks. He had no standing orders and heard no objection when they logged his intended course in the flight log. He idly wondered if perhaps Snoke was grieving himself, behind closed doors. His Master showed brief, rare glimpses of affection for the girl he called Daughter – it wouldn’t be so far fetched for him to feel the pain of her loss.

Two days he’d spent on Bardotta, scrutinising every detail of the renovated base, checking the credentials of every person who entered her room.

Two days he’d spent trying to reach her in the Force.

Two days he’d been torn apart with desperation.

Two days it took him to accept the finality of her death.  

And so, as much as it pained him, he left. He left those gloves, his gift to her, in the wardrobe in her room and just he walked away.

That was months ago. He can’t determine an exact time. He doesn’t want to. His daily duties and frequent missions have put his life back into such a comfortable routine, that sometimes, he can imagine that Rey is still out there somewhere, avoiding him for inexplicable reasons and growing into a beautiful young woman. Somewhere, she’s still using that hair tie. Still spouting lethal vitriol to those she despises, and pushing diplomatic ploys with that gentle, wise tone she’s beginning to master.

He dreams about how things might have gone differently, if he’d made different choices. He should have taken her childish tantrums with a grain of salt and maintained a better, more trusting relationship with her. He should have looked in on her more often. He would _never_ have allowed her to enter negotiations on a Republic-friendly planet without the army on standby and the Knights of Ren at her back. These dreams are clouded, fragmented and barely more than rampant thoughts thick with regret and self-loathing.

He wonders when he’ll inevitably begin to forget what she looks like, unaware that the Force has other ideas.

Kylo is deep in meditation the first time he sees her. She’s running through a field of purple flowers, the very picture of perfect health, hair wild and trailing behind her, her expression filled with elation and hope. Hailing from a desert planet of dead, shifting sands and rocks and bones, Rey loves nature and growing things. But she’s dead. Just a fantasy. Just a ghost.

“You are sentimental and foolish,” he tells her.

_“And you are an irritating, narrow-minded brute,”_ she retorts.

The exchange is mild compared to their usual banter. He puts up a wall between himself and her flowery meadow, because although he’s becoming accustomed to living in a galaxy where she doesn’t exist – it still _hurts._

* * *

 

It’s many months before he tears the wall down again.

The battle hasn’t gone as expected. He lost three of his Knights today. They’re headed to the Sith home world of Moraband for their funeral rites and cremation. The other remaining Knights are grieving for their fallen comrades. No one blames each other, but the stench of failure and remorse is stifling. Supreme Leader Snoke is equal parts displeased and indifferent to their deaths and won’t be in attendance – and that stings a little more than any of them will admit.

Kylo’s feeling unsure and vulnerable and he thinks the memory of her might just distract him enough to keep up the façade of a strong leader, rather than the despondent shell he is, so he searches for that place inside his mind where he’d last seen her.

She’s long gone, as is her meadow, the sun, and clouds. Behind the barrier of his stone wall, everything has died. It seems wickedly appropriate given the circumstances. He searches for another memory, but it’s hard to find. There are so many, and very few of them, fewer than he would like, are pleasant ones. Everywhere he searches through the reaches of his mind, she’s not there anymore, and he wonders if far away on Bardotta, her body has finally died. She’s not there in mind, or in the Force, so it’s entirely plausible that he wouldn’t have felt it when the time came. He’s not bothered by the possibility, having grieved for her long ago.

He’s feeling desperate at this point, to find comfort in her presence, however imaginary, and he reaches for the light, the one he keeps buried, hidden away. He rarely dares to venture there. It’s where his mother resides in his heart, it’s where the good memories are, the ones before his family betrayed him, the ones he can’t snuff out entirely, so he keeps buried beneath earth, water, and stone for good measure. He cracks open the ground and reaches out.

_“Rey,”_ he calls and then, as if summoned by a priority one holo message, she appears.

She’s older, somehow, looking more like the beautiful young woman she was growing to be, leaving her childhood behind. Her hair is longer and curiously, she’s wearing a long, white medical gown.

_Kylo?_ She asks, confused, brows drawn together, and lips curved in a frown.

Drinking in the sight of her, he can feel the frayed ends of his composure knit back together, and he tells that voice to shut up, the voice of reason in the back of his mind that tells him this is a mistake.

_Stars, what am I wearing?_ She looks down and examines her gown, bemused.

**_I’m no expert, but it looks like a lady’s med-gown to me._ **

_You are insufferable._

**_Only for you._** He almost smiles.

_Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated. Where the hell am I?_

He wonders just how broken his soul must be, how desperate for the sight of Rey he truly is, that his subconscious has decided to make it appear that she’s alive. **_You’re just a dream. You’re not really here._**

_Who’s dream, yours or mine?_

**_Mine_ ** _._

_Then where am I, really?_

**_Dead_** _,_ he slumps back in his seat. **_Gone_** _._

She scrutinises him for several moments, finding truth in his words, before her gaze turns thoughtful and she looks down at herself once more. _I don’t feel dead._

She doesn’t look dead, either. No matter. He got what he came for.

_Where are you?_ she queries.

**_Moraband._ **

He watches realisation flicker across her face, then she turns to see his surroundings. Her eyes rove over the familiar machinery and furnishings of the command shuttle, finally fixating on the three caskets draped in black, strapped down in the rear cargo area.

_Three of them?_ She whirls back around striking him with an accusing glare, and he visibly flinches. Her gaze softens upon the sight of his distraught expression. _I’m so sorry, Kylo. What happened?_

**_I don’t want to talk about it._ **

There’s a long silence between them, and she’s patiently waiting for him to continue.

**_The Supreme Leader isn’t coming._ **

_What?_ Her voice is so small, and it tears him apart. He doesn’t want her to think less of her Father, another curiosity since it shouldn’t matter, because she’s gone anyway. She moves to sit next to him and wrinkles her nose a little. _Have the sanitation staff started using disinfectant? It smells like a med-centre in here._

Several thoughts shoot through his mind all at once, and he closes his eyes to reach out and feel the Force around him. From the rear of the shuttle, three fleeting wisps of darkness, remnants from the corpses of his Knights. Across from his seated position, three familiar masked creatures, the remainder of his elite team. Pilots in the front, stormtroopers to the rear. Nothing else. He removes a glove from left hand, grateful that no one is paying him any attention and he snags her wrist with his fingers. She’s surprised by the sudden movement but doesn’t flinch. He presses fingertips to her wrist and he feels a slow, steady pulse beneath. It’s a lie, he tells himself. She’s a figment of his imagination, and a good one at that. He goes to release her from his grip, but she clutches his hand with hers and interlaces their fingers.

It’s the most intimate thing she’s ever done, and that’s precisely how he knows the entire thing is false.

She holds his hand the entire shuttle ride to the surface, drawing soothing circles with her thumb. He closes his eyes and lets the sensation sooth his overwhelming sorrow, disappointment, and the simmering rage within him is temporarily a gentle stream.

When the shuttle touches down, he opens his eyes and she’s gone.

* * *

 

**_TWO MONTHS LATER…_ **

It’s been a long stint in space. The last time he made planetfall was Moraband, and he’d rather put that unpleasantness far behind him, and add the deaths of his friends to the list of things he chooses not to think about. The list is getting long, far longer than it ought to be for someone his age. He feels old and alone, in his mind, even though physically he’s in his prime, stronger than ever before.

The First Order Security Bureau has exploded with new intel. Finance has been funnelled into the project at such a rate they have more money than they could ever spend, all thanks to desperate times and empty pockets of key informants, and the greed. Greed festers throughout the galaxy like a plague and the First Order is taking full advantage of the dire economic straits.

He knows he can destroy this festering sector of the galaxy with one targeted attack swoop. He wants to. There’s a foolish idealistic boy goading him from the murky depths of his past, telling him that he has the power to do what others cannot. It’s within his grasp, he only needs to step forward and seize it.

He senses a presence behind him and it feels like being doused with cold water. He stiffens and clenches his fists, finding solace in that sound of leather under pressure. He’s foolish to entertain such ambitions. Because he might be the heir to everything his grandfather built, but he has a long way to go before those hopes become reality. The Supreme Leader is wise. By the grace of his training, he will not be seduced by petty desires.

_Where are we?_ Her voice echoes ethereally in the space between them.

“Vanquish II,” he replies quietly. Then he turns to the terminal staff nearby. “You are dismissed,” he commands. “Clear the room.”

The operators lock their terminals and clear the room quickly and efficiently. When the door closes he strides to the lock mechanism and closes the blast door as well, locking them inside. Then, he removes his helmet and turns to face her. She’s looking out at the stars, looking as delicate as ever with her long hair pulled into a loose braid, tendrils framing her face and wearing the crisp white med gown that hugs her curves, covers her arms to her wrists, exposing only her neck and collarbones. The skirt falls to the floor and her bare toes peek cheekily from beneath the fabric as it ghosts the floor. She looks so feminine and her complexion is so pale he imagines she’s an angel from those stories, the ones the drunken pilots would sing about at those spaceports his father used to take him to. It’s easy to forget she’s vicious. It’s easy to forget that she’s a figment of his imagination, an echo in the Force of a comatose girl lying in a vegetative state on the other side of the galaxy.

_I know these stars,_ she murmurs wistfully.

“We’re in the Pasherian system.”

_I know. It’s a few parsecs from the edge of the Western Reaches. That’s my home star,_ she points to a bright, white dot in the sky far in the distance.

“Jakku’s sun?” he queries.

She nods. He feels emotions that don’t belong to him slither over his skin and seep into his bones. Sorrow with undercurrents of anger.

“Let the past die,” he intones quietly. “Kill it, if you have to.”

She laughs then, tilting her head back to laugh at the ceiling and shooting him a bemused, wide smile. _You want me to kill a star? What did it ever do to you?_

This is an unhealthy distraction, he thinks, being tethered like this to a dead girl. Let the past die. Well, he’s never been good at following his own advice. He smirks in spite of himself. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

_I know,_ she gives him a sad smile, before returning her watery gaze to the stars beyond the viewport. _I’d rather not keep intruding on you like this. I’m sorry._

“Yeah, me too,” he admits, “but it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

They fall into a comfortable silence for several minutes, punctured only when she sniffs softly and grimaces at the floor like she can smell something unpleasant. _Are you controlling this?_

“No,” he supplies, moving to stand beside her, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides like they want to reach out and touch her, but it is forbidden.

_It feels like you’re pulling me here. Why?_

“I don’t know.”

The lie shifts in the Force around them, discordant and wrong. The moment she senses it, her shoulders hunch and she folds her arms around herself. He knows why she’s here, and all the self-analysis he’s done boils down to one simple fact, all other reasons aside: he misses her.

He misses the chance that they might cross paths on the Supremacy. He misses seeing her on the holonet, all regal elegance as she wraps up negotiations for resources and territory. He misses her fire. Knowing she’s not really somewhere else flirting or bullying delegates into submission is so gods-damned wrong it makes him sick, and _that_ is the reason he’s so unhinged lately. It’s the reason he’s overseeing the Security Bureau, it’s the reason he hasn’t reported for training and the fact that the Supreme Leader hasn’t summoned him makes him feel so relieved – because he can’t lie to his master, and he’d rather run headstrong into battle than admit aloud to anyone that Rey’s death has cleaved him in two and he can’t move on, mostly because he doesn’t kriffing _want to._

Because having her ghost is better than facing the endless black of space alone.

He thinks his own churning emotions have been bleeding as profusely as her own, so he’s not surprised when she sniffs, and wipes tears away with her sleeve. He is surprised, though, when she turns on the spot and wraps her arms around his middle burying her face into his chest.

He freezes.

It takes him several long moments for his brain to catch up and react appropriately. His arms come around her small frame and he remembers how small she is, compared to him. Like she could snap if he held on too tight.

This, _this,_ is what he’s wanted. He’s been waiting for this moment for a long time, however short a time it may last, having her fully in his arms, wrapped around her, safe and cherished. She’s warm, and her hair smells like shampoo, some earthy, herbal, unfamiliar scent.

His commlink chirps, and he growls low in his throat. She shifts in his embrace, before suddenly melting away like mist from a waking dream, leaving him holding empty air. Open hands become clenched fists, and he vows to destroy whomever is on the other end of this communication, they will die for interrupting something so precious. It doesn’t matter that none of this is real. Only that he deserves it, after everything he’s been through.


	17. Part Three: Dreaming in Colour

 

_**PRESENT DAY...** _

It is in dreams when she visits him, when his defences are low and he’s too weary to stop himself - always dressed in white, hair precisely braided and falling over her shoulder, her lean muscles giving way to soft curves and her face is clean from heavy makeup, natural beauty shining through with bright eyes and a light smattering of freckles that have faded over the years.

_Beautiful,_ he thinks every time she enters his thoughts, which is entirely too often.

He casts aside all apprehension towards the girl. Everyone who loves someone ultimately has something to lose, a weakness which can be exploited. But there is no danger of that, here. She’s dead anyway.

* * *

 

_He’s on the family estate on Naboo, alone, sitting by the lake in the grass, reading a book. The sun is bright, and the endless, blue sky is dotted with clouds so fluffy and white they look synthetic. It’s one of his favourite places, a tranquil place where the Force is balanced, a little sanctuary he can never go back to._

_She’s there, too. Dressed all wrong and out of place, her pallid complexion stark against the golden, gentle sunshine._

_“Where are we this time?” She asks._

_“Naboo,” he’s trying to stay focussed on his book, but keeps reading the same sentence over and over._

_“What are you reading?”_

_“The Nethersphere.”_

_She pauses thoughtfully. “I didn’t know you liked to read.”_

_“Don’t tell anyone. You might ruin my reputation,” he gives her a fleeting smirk and she laughs._

_“The Nethersphere is one of my favourites,” she says, lying back onto the grass next to him. “Read to me?”_

_And he does. When she’s lying still it’s almost like seeing her for the last time, delivering her to that storage facility on Bardotta._

_While he reads aloud, she shifts gradually closer and closer until her head is resting on his shoulder. He pauses to swallow, stealing a glance down at her contented expression with her eyes closed and a soft smile on her lips. So unsure he even wanted this to begin with, now he is loath for it to end._

_They could have been so much **more**._

_“Keep going,” she requests softly._

_And he does, voice deep and resonating as he reads to her, an adventurous romance set in a galaxy far, far away amidst a war, with existential crises and the obstacle of passing into the afterlife. And he brings an arm around her, absently stroking the soft mess of hair at the crown of her head – completely at peace, grounded and yet at the same time, just as enthralled and taken away by the story… because it’s one of his favourites, too._

The dream is cruelly over not long after it begins, and he’s alone in his bed again.

He wonders what it will take to be rid of her, wonders if maybe he can’t and never will be able to, because for some kriffed-up reason he doesn’t want to. This is the truth at the core of his being, that he misses her so completely, that he wallows in this toxic attachment willingly, warring with the other part of him that wants to squash this weakness like an insect beneath his boot.

She’s gone. She’s not really there, she’s never coming back and it’s his fault – his failure to protect her that has put him in this situation.

In an exercise that has become habit, he meditates, arranging his memories and burying them deep where the Supreme Leader won’t sense them. It has become easier and easier with practice.

Sorrow is drowned out with guilt and then morphs into anger. Next thing he knows he’s dressed and headed towards the training room to relieve his tension.

The whole cycle is a nightmare he can’t escape.

* * *

 

**_ALMOST FIVE YEARS AGO…_ **

_"All droids resynchronize to Galactic Standard Time, offset four-oh-five."_

_The shuttle has touched down in the massive hangar bay, and the Knights head for the nearest corridor. He feels the unbridled pride wafting between the others like a scent, but he reserves his arrogance and ambition in favour of trepidatious optimism._

_He hopes the Supreme Leader will be pleased._

_He gave this mission everything he had._

_Now the First Order has a foothold in the Colonies._

_He’s not so bull-headed to claim he did it single-handedly, but he unleashed hell upon those who resisted occupation, and where the Knights of Ren were supposed to be one cohesive team, whether by fear or awe, it is them who ended up following him. Somehow, in one battle, the entire team built with former Jedi became something knew. Something to be feared._

_He hasn’t been aboard the Supremacy long enough to memorise the route to the throne room from this particular hangar bay, so Skara Ren takes point, looking at him for a few seconds, as if for permission._

_They all tense, as suddenly the Force shifts around them. A presence is headed towards them. They all move to grip their weapons, when suddenly, Skara raises a placating hand towards them, as if he knows something they don’t._

_A turbolift door opens down the corridor to an open shaft, then suddenly, like a Kowakian monkey-lizard swinging through the jungle without a care in the galaxy, she flips and tumbles through, landing into a lithe, graceful squat, letting out a grunt as she does so, then stands._

_“My Lady,” Skara Ren greets._

_Kylo watches curiously, as she stares back at Skara Ren, assuming an expression of utter indifference. Hazel eyes set in a freckled face appraise the Knights, and she doesn’t so much as batter an eye, not even when her hair tie comes undone, letting wild, brunette tresses fall where they may. He watches it fall to the ground behind her. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t acknowledge, or greet them, like she ought to, when addressed as ‘Milady’. No, this curious, adolescent scrap of a girl simply turns and continues her exercise as if the First Order’s most elite extra-military warriors are of little to no consequence. He smirks behind his mask. This must be Snoke’s daughter._

_He retrieves the fallen hair tie as they pass, and he watches with amusement as she nearly runs into an interrogation droid, falling to a slide as she passes beneath the hovering menace, again, as if the torture device means nothing to her. He pockets the hair tie for later, because its light weight in his palm feels… important somehow. He learned long ago to trust his instincts in such things._

_The turbolift never comes, when a technician informs them through the commlink that there is an electrical problem and none of the lifts on the twelfth level are working._

_It is twenty standard minutes before they find the source of the problem, and while the others are restless, he regards the close lift door in silence. He is trained in contemplation, is skilled in deliberation, and can remain meditating just so for hours at a time. The unusually long wait is of no consequence to him. He smirks ever slightly beneath his mask, that perhaps he and the force-sensitive girl fortunate enough to be adopted by Snoke have that in common, at least. Gossip and politics, power plays and blood-thirsty warriors are infinitesimal compared to the Force, and that is why a child-like princess of the dark looks at a group of men with the blood of thousands on their hands like they are nothing more than stormtroopers, or cleaning droids. That is why he waits patiently for the turbolift even though it shouldn’t be taking this long to fix, while the others are losing their patience._

_The doors open with a hiss. Finally._

_He unfolds his arms and is last to step on the turbolift, so that when they arrive on the right level, he will be the first to step out. He might believe that the Force is transcendent to keeping up appearances, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t obliged to meet expectations._

_As they walk towards the throne room, he is focussed ahead, that prior sense of quiet optimism spreading like a second skin, hoping his Master will be pleased._

_And so, he doesn’t see her, feel her, or even sense something is off until there is pressure at his cloak, is tugged off balance and he’s sprawled on the floor, along with his fellow Knights, giving him a unique perspective of the room from this angle, of its glossy black floors and red banners that stretch on forever. There is someone standing over him. He looks up and meets her eyes, although she is face front and refuses to look down, she makes a point of stepping directly over him, letting her robes brush against his. None of his training or life experiences have prepared him for this. He doesn’t know what to do._

_She approaches the throne, and kneels before it, slipping seamlessly from elitist trickster to humble, submissive daughter. “I apologise, Father,” she says with a Core accent much like her adoptive Father’s. “That was arrogant and childish of me.”_

_Oh, she’s **good.**_

_One wave from the Supreme Leader, and she moves to stand dutifully at his right side._

_“What news from Bardotta?” Snoke rumbles in his baritone voice._

**_She_ ** _breaks into a small, brief, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. Clever girl. He’d guessed, but she knows for certain that this is a test. Her cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink when she realises, he has been watching her the whole time. He tilts his head, no more than the subtlest of shifts, acknowledging her embarrassment. While Skara Ren gives a paraphrased retelling of the report that the Supreme Leader has already received, he keeps an eye on the girl, and tries not to flinch when they mention his name. It’s difficult when he has such little information to go on, but he’s trying to figure out exactly how she fits in here. She is Snoke’s daughter – but what does that **mean?** Is he grooming her to be a figurehead? Is she a pet project? Is she his future right hand, when the galaxy is in their grasp? Or is she simply – his daughter?_

_Could it be that simple – does the old man get lonely?_

_He snorts inwardly… **not likely…**_

_Then he sees something shift between Father and Daughter. A knowing smirk crosses Snoke’s wrinkled visage and she responds with her own, and then she looks back to him, and he’s hit with a tidal wave of emotion. It twists up his spine and leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Jealousy._

_A piece of the puzzle clicks into place and suddenly everything is clear to him, and her behaviour makes sense. She wants Snoke’s attention. And as the Apprentice, he is stealing it from her._

_Jealousy, he understands. It leads to other more powerful emotions, like hatred and becomes fuel for possession and passion. It rips and scratches, bites, and tears, gnawing away like the destructive little thing it is, and oh, how he understands. Don’t be afraid, he wants to tell her, I feel it too._

_"From this day forth you will be known as Kylo Ren," Leader Snoke announces. "And I forbid anyone from using the name you carried in your former life."_

_"Thank you, Supreme Leader,” he responds with a nod of reverence._

_His Master dismisses the others and asks him to stay. He stands at attention._

_"Kylo Ren," Snoke breathes in his wheezing, gravelly tone. "This is my daughter, Rey Snoke."_

_"It's a pleasure to meet you, My Lady," Kylo dips his head, grateful that now he has a name to match to her face, her title, and that comprehensive storm of emotions she’s got going on._

_She’s so damned conflicted she’s practically broadcasting her thoughts, and he hears them. **I wonder what his real face looks like,** she wonders._

_He’s more than happy to oblige, and he reaches up to remove his helmet, hair falling into his eyes and he flicks it away, so he can see her reaction. That lovely blush is on her cheeks again. She’s panicking. Her mental walls go up so quick even the Supreme Leader eyes her suspiciously, just for a moment._

_"She tripped all of the Knights upon your arrival," Snoke continues, casting an unbridled glare in her direction. "It was very immature."_

_"We should be more mindful of our surroundings," he offers with trepidation._

_"Lessons for both, Father,” she pipes up. “I should not behave so juvenile, and your Knights should pay more attention," Rey speaks so quietly but with such utter cheek that Snoke simply sneers back. He idly wonders if she is subject to the same punishment as the rest of them, for failing the Supreme Leader._

_It’s unpleasant, but necessary, but part of him sincerely hopes she doesn’t have to feel such pain. She’s so very young, after all._

_He is to report tomorrow for training, and then he lowers his voice, even further if that were at all possible, growling at Rey. “Get out of my sight.”_

_"Yes, Father," she joins his side and they both kneel in respect, and he puts his mask back on, before heading out of the room._

_He slows his pace to match hers, out of chivalry if nothing else, and then he feels it again. That jealousy. It feels like there is a tiny window of opportunity here, that itch at the back of his mind, his instinct, the Force telling him no, it doesn’t have to be this way._

_They’re past the Praetorian guard, and the door hisses closed behind them. “Rey,” he calls after her, barely more than a whisper, then he remembers himself. “My lady,” he says, a little louder this time._

_She turns, and in the stark white light of the corridor he gets a good look at her, as she clasps her hands in front of her, shooting him that look again, the unassuming, almost **bored** sort of gaze like she’d rather be elsewhere. “Yes?”_

_She has to crane her neck to look up at him, he notices, because she’s so short, so he crouches down, getting on one knee to let her have the advantage of height. And he removes one glove, reaching into his pocket and holds out her lost hair tie in offering. He feels stupid, but he’s going on a gut feeling here._

_It’s never let him down before._

_She retrieves it from his bare, open palm and their fingertips touch. Where his are warm, hers are freezing cold and everything changes. Touching her is like greeting an old friend, but he’s never met her before, and following that inexplicable sense of solidarity, familiarity comes something else… something harder to describe._

_It’s like just for a second, one standard second and no longer, this is exactly where the Force intends for them to be. And to think this is a crossroad almost missed, a path almost not taken, had he turned left and continued on his way._

_He doesn’t know the girl, but he wants to. No one else’s emotions have quite affected him the way hers do. The emotions of others mean nothing to him, but the thought that she could loathe him for inadvertently taking something precious from her. No. It simply won’t do. The fact that she’s the daughter of the most powerful being in the galaxy has nothing to do with it_

_Her lips curl into a smile, and for the first time since leaving the Jedi order, it feels like a win – one he didn’t have to fight or kill for._

_"Thank you, Kylo Ren. You are a great asset for the First Order. I look forward to working with you."_

_He nods with thanks, and then she turns on her heel and strides away with an air of superiority, and he’s left wondering if he just made… friends… with the most powerful kid in the galaxy._

* * *

 

_**PRESENT DAY…** _

He wakes with a start, communicator chirping insistently. He reaches out with the Force and calls it to his hand from across the room, the device hitting his palm with a satisfying smack as he presses the button and brings it to his lips. “What is it?” he barks.

_“Sir, we’ve got a problem. Strike team Mukowa reported back. Four of their spies have been captured by the Resistance movement.”_

Kriff. “I’ll be right there.”

His dreams lately only feature Rey in some form or another, in his wild imaginings or in memories. Tonight’s dreamscape brought forth the memory of the first time they met, leaving him shaking his head and sneering as he gets dressed. He’d been foolish to hope, even if he didn’t quite know what he was hoping for, at the time.

And stars, how the Force has a sense of humour. All he wants is to bury the past, but it keeps coming back to make his life miserable, be it memories of the dead girl he can’t let go of, or the disruptions courtesy of the latest of his mother’s causes – the Resistance… blatantly fighting against the First Order where the Republic is too cowardly to act. Brave, perhaps, but stupid… inevitably futile; and so very, very much NOT what he wants to deal with right now.

 

 


	18. Part Three: Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologise for taking so long to update. I'm always writing, I have many other projects in the works, and it's nice to take a break from the Supreme Daughter. I hope some of my other work will be up to scratch for posting soon. Writing isn't something I'm suited to for a career (I'm a realist not a dreamer), but as a hobby I'd really like to be in top form, and you guys give me the confidence to keep going. So from the bottom of my heart, you guys are amazing and you are all so very lovely. Thank you.
> 
> WARNING: Smidgen of family violence.
> 
> We're back to Rey's POV

Floating through empty space, stars all around, no ships to be seen. Weightless and without feeling. An all-encompassing sense of freedom and peace, that balance in the Force many sought but few could achieve. That persistent smell of antiseptic, and fresh-washed linen. The occasional sensation, ghosts of fingers in her hair and on her body.

She always loved the stars, and now she is one of them, and they are her kin. The Living Force that flows through the cosmos is the same Force that rushes through veins and makes hearts flutter, tears swell, rain fall, and trees grow.

Never in a million years did she think she could experience something so profound, so beautiful.

There is no sense of time, but sometimes, and for never as long as she would like, she is pulled into _his_ dreams. Sometimes he is expecting her, other times she catches him off-guard and seen things he would have rather kept private.

She has seen his parents fighting.

His father leaving for months at a time.

Watched his powers grow, his emotions peak and his control slip.

She feels betrayal’s sting as the person he loves the most sends him away to train to be a Jedi.

The loneliness is palpable.

Calling. Whispers. Promises of destiny, belonging, legacy and so much more than this.

_“We’re the same,”_ she tells him once more.

Time slows. The space between heartbeats as his uncle, the man entitled ‘Master’ stands over him, lightsaber ignited and casting a green pallor over Ben’s hut and his soul. Calling. Whispers. Survival instinct kicks in and he parries just in time. “Ben!” his attacker shouts.

And it’s no wonder he hates that name.

The Jedi Temple is brought to its knees in a single night of flame and retribution.

She sees Leader Snoke come for him, and _the others,_ and she understands for the first time where some of the other Knights came from.

The afterlife gives Rey insight into many things she might have otherwise never known. But that is not why she is so content. It is because she is dead, that she finds herself free to spend time with him, to explore that connection which posed so many threats. Free of anxiety, of consequences, unafraid of attachment or love. The dead don’t love.

Sometimes the living don’t love, either, she has come to learn.

The way Leader Snoke came for Kylo and the others echoed throughout time, like history repeating itself over and over, how each child did not fall but was pushed to the dark side and welcomed with open arms.

The way Snoke welcomed her with open arms.

She is of half a mind that perhaps her Father is more a purveyor of powerful objects, rather than the wise figurehead she’s grown to love. She thinks of Snoke grieving for the daughter he found in the Jakku wastelands but can’t picture it in her mind’s eye no matter how hard she tries.

And like a southerly breeze that beckons from whence she came, Rey hears that little girl from the past, the scrappy little scavenger in the desert, crying, so lonely, so hungry, desperate for sleep, wanting to be held, craving so much more, and that voice. That chilling voice. Calling. Whispers.

A past she can’t escape, just like him, and a future that will never happen.

 

* * *

 

 

The golden hall erupts into cacophonous applause.

There are a mixture of First Order officers, Bardottan officials, the aristocracy and… she feels a gloved hand on her shoulder, flinching under his touch.

It’s the victory party on Bardotta all over again.

She catches her reflection in a wall of mirrors, designed to make the space appear larger than it is. It is not her younger self that looks back at her. She is a young woman, years have given her gentle curves and sharper features. Her hair is coiffed into a perfect up-do, heavy makeup lines her eyes, gone are the dark circles from lack of sleep and the smattering of freckles across her nose. Her lips are painted a rich, burgundy red, and she smiles, flashing two rows of perfect, white teeth.

But where is he?

She scans the second-floor balconies for that masked, lurking figure but finds none.

Her eyes land on General Hux. His hair is longer, slicked back to perfection and he wears a great coat with far more silver lines on his epaulettes than he used to have.

It takes her several long moments to realise the hand on her shoulder doesn’t belong to Hux.

She turns and sees Kylo.

His lip curls in that ever-slight way, imperceptible to anyone but her. He’s practically beaming.

“I’m proud of you,” he tells her.

Her brows draw together. She looks back to the party and sees bodies everywhere. Blood pools on the ground, gushing like a crimson river. When she looks back up, he’s wearing his mask again. They are both cast aglow from the crimson of his lightsaber. They are outside, snow flurries around them and the breeze flutters their cloaks. His grip tightens, and she takes a step backwards, fearing him, sensing nothing but unhinged rage.

Then, she’s back among the stars once more, and the dream melts away like it never happened.

* * *

 

The next time his presence fills the space around her, it takes her several long moments to realise this is no dream of hers, and he is very much awake.

He’s writhing in agony on the polished floors of her father’s throne room. She knows what that feels like. He sees her, and in a panic, he shuts her out, throwing her from the recesses of his mind with such a strong blow of the force that she’s pushed hard into the mattress of her bed, which groans under the stress. She sits bolt upright, and white light fills her vision and that disinfectant smell is even more potent.

She looks around and sees a very startled service droid, frozen in place, holding a floor-scrubber. She swings her feet over to touch the cold, damp floor and tenderly stands, her body aching with stiffness as though she’s been sleeping for far too long and surveys her surroundings. As she moves, she feels odd tugging sensations all over her body, and pulls at them, finding sticky sensors with wires attached to her arms, legs, and temples. She rips them off and throws them back on the bed. The machine they were connected to starts to beep and she flicks a switch to silence it. The service droid is gone before she can tell it to stop.

_What a strange dream,_ she thinks. She’s wearing her usual white med-gown and her hair is perfectly braided and falls over her shoulder. One side of the room contains furniture and medical supplies, with polished chrome surfaces that show her reflection. The other side of the room is a large viewscreen. She steps towards it and waves her hand, lifting the shades and the room is flooded with light. As her eyes adjust, she sees a familiar sight – the Bardottan mountains, the green and the mist, the Force – she would know them anywhere.

She hears footsteps, and a nurse walks in, a Bardottan native with a long neck and wearing pristine white medical robes, embroidered with the intergalactic medical care symbol.

“Milady?” shock is written across her face, her beak-like snout opening and closing without saying anything. Her eyes dart from the misshapen bed and discarded sensors to Lady Snoke, standing, alive and _awake_ at the viewscreen.

Rey is quickly losing patience and goes to greet the nurse, only to push her to her knees and invade her mind as quickly as she can. The interrogation is over seconds after it begins, and she leaves the nurse crying quietly on the floor as she returns to look out the viewscreen.

This is real.

The cold air, the hard floor, the sharp edges, the harsh light.

Comatose since the _accident_ on Uquine, a year ago.

And a specially built med-centre at a storage facility in the Colonies, a safe resting place for the Supreme Daughter who would never wake up.

“Oh Kriff,” she presses a hand over her mouth, stifling an overwhelmed sob as it all hits her at once.

Kylo forcing her out of his mind, from his place on her Father’s floor somewhere across the galaxy – hard enough to wake her up.

He doesn’t know yet. What will happen when he finds out? When he realises all his exposed vulnerabilities and their familiarity isn’t as safe as he thought? Because there’s no harm in honesty and openness when you’re in love with a dead girl.

Her awakening has put everything in danger.

Switching on the console in her room, the first thing that catches her notice is the star date.

It’s her seventeenth birthday.

Taking stock of the situation so far, she’s alone, has lost an entire year and she’s stuck on Bardotta. The fleet could be anywhere.

In the cupboard, she finds a short selection of dresses, tunics and shoes, all signature black, hanging in a small foldaway closet in her room, accessed with a hand scanner that opens at her touch. She selects boots, tights, and a sleeveless tunic. At the back of the cupboard, she finds her vibro long-knives tucked into their sheaths and her belt, her dagger, and a blaster. But there’s something else there she doesn’t usually wear. A pair of long, black, gloves. They’re made of a soft, breathable material with leather accents on the palms, knuckles, and wrists. She presses them with her fingers she sees a fleeting image of another, familiar pair of gloves, placing these ones in the cupboard. She senses Kylo Ren, torn apart by guilt. _He_ did this. _He_ placed these here for her, in case she ever woke up. The gloves are a gift, delicately placed here along with the rest of her belongings.

Surveying herself in the chrome surfaces around the room, she’s unsettled to see her reflection looking older. Her hair is longer, braided differently. The sun-kissed freckles from her childhood have faded. Her breasts and hips are slightly more pronounced, and she’s got tiny white marks on her neck. Scars.

She wonders what other scars will be waiting to greet her the next time she undresses before a mirror. A long-forgotten memory surfaces, of politics and explosions, a farm boy called Sarif.

Clumsy teenage lovemaking.

Revenge.

Despair.

A family slaughtered, their bodies burned.

She examines her hands. These hands wrought devastation, channelled a power far beyond her control.

No.

Never again.

Her knuckles are white as she clutches the gloves in her hand, her heart racing and mind overwhelmed with recollection. She can feel the darkness swelling in her belly once more, and the room starts to shake, and the glass of her viewscreen shatters, sending a chilly sea breeze into the room, and she idly wonders where her nurse has run off to.

Donning a hooded cloak to cover her pale, haunted visage, the last item she finds in the cupboard is a commlink. She wonders what will happen when she turns it on. She wonders who will be on the receiving end when she activates it. Her heart wants it to be Kylo but her common sense prevails and pleads to the Force, to the stars, whoever listens; that it’s her Father.

She places it on the floor and activates the comm device.

Moments later, a holo activates and a friendly face comes into view, although usually he’s clean cut, pristine and neat, this time his hair is floppy and he’s dressed rather casually, and she’s certain that she’s caught him at an inopportune moment.

“Milady?” Hux’s voice comes through the transmission, clear, his tone of voice laced with incredulity.

“Hello General.”

The silence is deafening. She sees several emotions play across his face, confusion, disbelief, then, when she offers him a small smile, elation.

“Forgive me, Milady, it’s just that we all thought-” he can’t finish.

“I know. Hux, I need you, I feel very… lost.”

“Of course you do. I’ll inform the Supreme Leader immediately and I will come collect you myself.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary, I’ll find a transport, but my access codes will have expired.”

“Milady it would be the greatest honours if you would allow me to return you to your Father after your long recovery. And there will be a great deal to catch you up on.”

“I’m very grateful, Hux.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Snoke. I’ll be in contact within the hour.”

Another breeze whips up, and she shivers as she straps the commlink to her wrist, looking up just in time to see another familiar face enter her room. He’s aged some, but still looks the same and has the bearing of an old priest.

“Chieftain Yentisch,” she says monotonously, dipping her head in acknowledgement.

“Milady, were you attacked?” He surveys the damage to her room and looks her up and down.

“No.” She doesn’t elaborate further, and familiar synchronised footfalls echo down the hall, and she sees the polished white helms of her soldiers.

“Milady,” the first stormtrooper greets. He’s wearing red shoulder armour and she’s surprised to see his designation is that of the DX corps.

“Captain,” she replies. “Took you long enough.”

“Apologies, Milady.”

“See that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, Milady.”

“Where is DX-4597?”

He doesn’t recognise the name. “I’ll find out, Milady.”

“Please do.”

He barks orders and disappears, leaving an entire squadron in her room and another posted outside the door. The space seems infinitely smaller and warmer packed with people, and it’s almost humorous despite the unreceptive party.

“Cheiftain Yentisch, you look well. How fares Bardotta and the rest of the Colonies?”

“Loyal to the First Order,” he replies quickly. “And it’s General Yentisch now.”

“Congratulations,” she says with a clipped tone.

There’s a brief uncomfortable silence, which he breaks first. “Milady, you should know, nobody thought you would recover. We built this facility especially for you.”

“It’s lovely, thank you.”

The situation is borderline laughable given that she’s destroyed much of the room thus far and stands the shortest person in a room packed to the brim with soldiers, one Bardottan official and a weepy nurse cowering in the hallway behind him.

Her commlink chimes, and she raises her arm. “That was quick,” she muses, as Hux’s now cleanly shaven and groomed face comes into view.

_“You should know how enthusiastic the troops were when I told them the news, and your father is overjoyed.”_ Stars, she thinks she could Force choke him at once. But of course, he would jump at the opportunity to pick up troop morale with an emblazoned tale of her miraculous recovery and all the good things she’s done and will do for the First Order. And her Father has never been and never will be ‘overjoyed.’ It’s not part of their unconventional relationship. _“I’ll be departing soon. ETA nine hours.”_

She clicks off the device, cutting their communication short. She has nothing more to say to him.

* * *

 

Hux arrived to collect the Supreme Daughter from Bardotta in the elegant, Upsilon-Class Command Shuttle he had commissioned for her sixteenth birthday, a gift given one standard year late. It’s a beautiful metal creature of the same design of her previous shuttle but smaller, with smoother edges, better manoeuvrability, and faster engines. General Hux admits he has been holding it in storage in the hopes she might return one day.

Rey might have underestimated the fierce loyalty that Hux and his exceptionally trained men have for her, because it seems the entire First Order is abuzz with excitement for her return.

On the long flight to the Supremacy, the General takes the liberty of updating Lady Snoke with everything she has missed in the last year, the successes and failures, the losses, and incredible gains. Their fleet has expanded thanks to bolstered support – and finance – from the Colonies and the Kuat shipyards have been working around the clock to deliver Star Destroyers and Dreadnaughts, thousands of TIE fighters, ground assault craft and there is a new Superweapon, like a Death Star but exponentially bigger and more advanced under construction in the Unknown Regions of space. Hux explains how his father, General Brendol Hux, has passed away, and how half of the Knights of Ren were decimated in a heated battle for control of the Tempered Wastes, three killed in a single battle, a fourth later at the hands of Leader Snoke.

“Where are they now?” she asks.

He checks his data pad. “They’ve just been dispatched to Geonosis, in the Outer Rim.” He doesn’t elaborate further.

“And where is the Supremacy?”

“We’re headed to the Unknown Regions. To the planetary base, the Supreme Leader wanted to see the construction of our new superweapon himself. You will be impressed, Milady. This fierce machine will turn the tide of this war.”

“And the Republic?”

“Still in disarray. Petty squabbling politicians that don’t have the means or desire to better the galaxy, they’re still in senate committees deciding whether to investigate the First Order’s presence in the Colonies for war crimes from the siege on Bardotta.”

“That was two years ago,” she scoffs.

“Three, now, Milady.”

She frowns then, wondering how she’s going to get used to the passage of time when an entire year has disappeared from her life. “We shouldn’t give them the opportunity to unite.”

“I heartily agree.” The shuttle lurches gently into sub-light speed, and they both stand. Hux leads her to the cockpit where she can see her old home – the Mega-class Star Destroyer _Supremacy_ with in all its enormous, abject terror. All other ships look like insects in its shadow, its massive wingspan dwarfing everything except the planet below.

The planet is heavily under construction, covered in scaffolding and machinery. There is an entire bisection of the planet carved out, and the Death Star-inspired weapon is taking shape, built into the crust of the planet itself. She can’t help but gape at the engineering masterpiece. It’s horrific, monstrous, and terrible, and it will win them control of the galaxy. Although she can’t help but wonder how many Star Destroyers could have been built in its stead, a hundred perhaps? More?

“What do you think, Milady?”

She swallows heavily, fraught with conflicting emotion. “There are no words, General.”

 

* * *

 

The Supremacy brings out all the elite troops and officers for Lady Snoke’s homecoming. There are Special Forces TIE Fighters lined up neatly, their pilots in neatly pressed uniforms, officers with boots as reflective as the glossy floors, two red praetorian guards as her escorts and several battalions of stormtroopers. She is disappointed to learn the entire DX corps is assigned to the Colonies, and the TL corps has been rotated for assignment to the Supremacy. The entire greeting party salutes her in unison and the officers bow.

She doesn’t give them the assessment they expect, instead she pointedly ignores them and makes for the turbolift with General Hux and her two Praetorian guards in tow. It’s eerily silent on the trip upwards, the gentle whirr of the elevator, Hux’s breathing and the sound of rustled fabric as he straightens his tunic and checks he has not one hair out of place. The guards are still and silent, the only sound is their breathing and the sound of leather gloves tightening their grip on the weapons as the elevator comes to a halt, always alert.

The elevator opens to her Father’s throne room, and it’s all achingly familiar. How many times has she walked these floors, past the same red-clad guards and greeted her father seated in his magnificent chair. He looks the same, she muses as she approaches, as weathered and aged as always, as powerful as always. _But I am different._

“Daughter,” he says with a clipped tone, almost affronted by her appearance. They don’t do warm greetings.

“Father,” she approaches and kneels with reverence.

He scoffs almost imperceptibly at her gesture, but doesn’t speak, and she doesn’t stand to meet his gaze. There is tense silence, and she feels him grazing the edges of her mind, and she grants him access. All the things she doesn’t want him to see are buried deep, and he won’t go looking if she gives him what he wants. She feels him sifting through memories with contemptuous ease, until he finds the one he wants the most, at the destroyed farmhouse on Uquine, where she unlocked a hidden potential within herself, she used force lightning against Kylo Ren in anger, but the power was too much to behold and she couldn’t stop herself before it damaged her body and mind, irreparably.

At least, it seemed irreparably at the time.

“Perhaps if you had devoted yourself to my training and less with diplomatic interventions, you would not have failed so spectacularly. What an embarrassment you are.”

That hurts more than any punishment he’s ever dished out.

 “Have you nothing to say to me?”

“I’m sorry I failed you Father. It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” his cold, calculating smile makes an appearance, mocking her with a façade of warmth and gentleness as he rises from his chair, down the gentle slope of the dais to greet her.

She rises, hazel eyes meeting ice blue as she looks up at him hopefully. It is her birthday, after all.

But there is no smile on his face now, and he makes her wait, just a few, long, cruel seconds until she realises that there is no affection on his part, not this year.

There is no time to be crestfallen, only stunned, as he backhands her with such strength, she hits the floor hard.

She tastes blood in her mouth and feels her arm throbbing where it crumpled beneath her weight as she instinctively tried to break her fall.

A few wet spots mar the glossy, pristine floor.

The perfect, reflective floor that both supports and swallows. It has seen everything. It bears witness to all the praises and punishments, all manner of accomplishments and let-downs.

Today it remains ever indifferent to her tears.

And she doesn’t get up because he hasn’t yet given her permission to do so.


	19. Part Three: Hitting Home

It’s hours upon hours of training at a time, and each day she retires to her quarters more exhausted than the last. Tes, her handmaiden, is long gone. A suitable replacement is being sought after, but meanwhile Rey doesn’t leave her private quarters except for her training. Her favourite droid, BB9-E is her only friend, and she concludes that maybe it’s for the best. Droids don’t disappoint you. Her little BB unit has been in storage since her accident, and in its last system download, he picked up a little programming glitch that seems to have resulted in the astromech becoming somewhat sassy.

It’s adorable.

BB still remembers how to braid her hair using his extendable arms and when she’s rude, he’s not above pulling her hair.

She’s grateful for her little droid, because with the debilitating fatigue she experiences post-training, she can’t very well afford to waste the energy braiding her own hair. A less vain girl might have her hair cut short, but then she might look like one of those many female officers with their severe bob hair cuts and she needs to stand out. She is First Order royalty and appearances are important.

Each day ends with Rey in tears, but after a long soak in the bath and a heavy sleep, she goes back to her Father for training each day.

Her choices are very simple. Either master her abilities or become obsolete. Live, or die.

It is only by allowing herself to become consumed with intense feelings, that Rey finds she can wield force lightning, and the attempt to bring it forth is more taxing than the act of using it. The only emotion strong enough to bring it forth is manifested in her feelings for Kylo Ren.

Or more specifically, how far she might go to save him, if it came down to it. A part of it comes from dangerously high levels of affection, and the other part comes from the gnawing guilt about what she did to him that day on Uquine.

She imagines his life is in danger and only she can save him. Imagines that the training droid is about to deliver the killing blow that will take him away forever. It’s so easy after that, the power surges through her palms, brilliant blue lightning shoots and forks from her fingertips and strikes the droid, leaving a singed, sparking mess across the floor.

“You are a wonder to behold, Daughter,” Snoke tells her, followed by a slow, hollow round of applause. “Perhaps I needn’t have wasted my time on Kylo Ren.”

“The galaxy is big enough for both of us,” Rey replies coolly. “We will rebuild civilisation as per your vision, Father.”

He is quiet and contemplative after those remarks, and it sets Rey’s teeth on edge. Her Father is the most unpredictable when he’s morose and thoughtful. You never quite know if he’ll beat you down or build you up.

“Go, now,” he says finally, his breath coming out with a slight wheeze, “I’m finished with you.”

It’s early in the cycle. “Will I come back tomorrow?”

“No. I will _call_ if I should wish to see you,” he sneers. “Go find something productive to do.”

_Find something productive to do._

She hears his orders aloud as well as in her mind, but they don’t echo like they used to. They grate and scratch at her mental walls, enough for her to hear his words but not have them influence her. And like a little girl who is being taught religiously to avoid the light, she reaches for the darkness until the room drops several degrees and her fists tremble.

“Yes, Father,” she bows her head in respect, and if there’s a smug sort of expression on his weary features, she chooses to ignore it, instead strives for the day when she’ll reach perfection, when he won’t need to be arrogant or mocking or angry or hard on her anymore – because she’ll be the most perfect dark side daughter there ever was or will be.

She is completely cognizant of how irrevocably desperate she is for her Father’s approval, but he’s given her so much – how can she even entertain the thought of being ungrateful to the man who rescued her from the junkyard beyond the galaxy’s sphincter?

“Your feelings are your greatest weapon, Rey Snoke. They do you credit, but if you cannot quell your sentiment, you will always fail. Now, go.”

* * *

 

It’s true though. Her attachments always seems to get her in trouble.

When her Father tells her to shut down the sentimentality, the very first thing she thinks of is Kylo Ren. Of where he is, what he’s doing. She wonders if he knows she’s awake. Wonders if he’s shocked, happy, angry, or indifferent.

In an effort to keep her mind from straying to that dark side warrior, her Father’s Apprentice, she finds herself spending most of the day scavenging parts from the recycling centre deep in the bowls of the ship.

The droids make a fuss when she stops the conveyor belt time after time, inspecting bits and pieces, some parts she knows she needs, others she’s not sure of, but acquires them anyway.

She sifts through the components back in her room, splayed out as she examines the pieces, recalling one particular time she’d spent in Kylo Ren’s dreamscape, and he’d shown her how to construct a lightsaber. There’s a wave of nostalgia wash over her as she brings the memory forth, coupled with a mild pain in her chest that blooms with loneliness. Their connection has gone beyond what either of them would have allowed if they had known Rey would wake up. The reality of it hits her like an out of control freighter, and she lets out a soft cry, doubling over in her seated position, not even aware that she’s projecting. Not cognizant of that connection growing in strength, of his presence ebbing closer until he’s a waking vision, unaware that he stands right in front of her.

“Rey?”

She looks up, teary eyed to the intruder and instinctively reaches for her discarded weapons, bringing her vibro-knife to her open hand with the force and igniting it, the red electricity racing along the sharp metal blade, coming to life and reflecting off the bland surfaces of her room, and her own pale, tear-streaked face.

He gives a tiny huff, the ghost of a chuckle tugging at his lips, and she quickly turns the weapon off, and wipes her tears on her sleeve.

“What are you doing here?” she says with a sniffle, sounding much more fragile and less intimidating than she wants to be.

“Are you all right?” he asks, and moves to sit across from her, crossing his legs and mirroring her own position, a field of tiny parts separating them. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she retorts, this time giving up on her threatening demeanour. She’s far too tired and emotionally compromised to present a believable one, anyway. “What are you doing here?”

“I could feel your pain. I – heard you.”

She contemplates him for a moment, thinking of the most amiable way to tell him to sod off without enraging him. Reigniting their long-standing feud might very well bring them closer together in the end. She knows that now. This predicament calls for calm detachment. “Sentiment is dangerous to our cause. You know that.” There, she thinks, that sounds suitably aloof.

His eyes drop to the floor, and she knows she’s hit the right target. She knows what he’s thinking. He’s thinking of the failures of his grandfather, how one moment of weakness tore down the entire Empire and how much pressure he puts on himself to not make the same mistake. His gaze changes from thoughtful reflection to curiosity as he examines the parts display before her. There’s focusing lenses and wires, switches and power cells, a black ribbed metal casing, a bowl of protein and vegetables gone cold and sitting beside her, the soft glow of a long, thin white kyber crystal.

“You’re making a lightsaber,” he says, equal parts fervour, curiosity, with a hint of fear. He meets her gaze and they stare squarely at each other for several long moments, him silently asking a question that she doesn’t want to answer. There’s no ignoring the happabore in the room, but she had hoped to avoid the topic of conversation precisely by avoiding the man himself. That plan had gone seriously awry.

“It’s been easy so far. You’re a good teacher.”

His eyes darken, and his voice deepens. “You were really there, weren’t you? The whole time?”

She nods, “I know everyone thought I wouldn’t wake up-”

“It was more than that, Rey. I felt your body go cold. Your mind was gone, your… _Force_ was gone. You were dead.” His darkness of his Force dims the lights and she shivers as the room drops in temperature. His deep, brown, impossibly expressive eyes narrow at her something akin to distrust or revulsion – what exactly, she can’t tell.

“I thought so, too. But it’s clear to me now that I was… elsewhere,” she finds it too difficult to put into words. “I didn’t trick you, Kylo. I know that’s what you’re thinking. I know you well. You let me get to know you personally, see your weaknesses, something you never would have done if you didn’t think I was truly dead. You needn’t fear what I know. Your secrets are safe with me.” She hopes her promise will sate him, but instead of the curt nod and retreat that she expects, he continues to stare at her, a shift in his demeanour from apprehensive to calm, and imperceptibly, the air between them reaches a familiar place, like their dreamscapes, where consequences didn’t exist.

“To project oneself across the galaxy, the effort would kill either one of us,” he muses.

“Well we both know I’m not dead. What about you?” she quips and earns another almost-smile.

“It’s not me. The Force is connecting us.”

“Why?”

He shrugs.

“Do you like half-knowing things?” she asks.

… “What?”

“You know how to fly a TIE fighter, but not how to pull one apart and put it back together. You know we’re connected by the will of the Force, but now how or why…”

“Consider carefully now, whose knowledge you are utilising right now,” he replies, affronted by her implication, as he gestures to her half-assembled lightsaber casing.

“Fair call,” she concedes. “Would you kindly look into it?”

“As you wish.”

They sit in companionable silence for several minutes, as she works on her lightsaber.

“You should use these,” he points to the red wires, “they’re fibrous and will stabilise the route from the power couplings.”

She shoots him a glare, just daring to interrupt her again, as she tries to focus on the delicate task at hand.

“Sorry,” he throws a palm up in mock defence. “Far be it for me to tell a girl what to do with her lightsaber.”

She throws an empty canister at his head, and he flinches instinctively, even though it passes straight through him, and she smiles.

“A saberstaff?” he asks lightly, seeing her insert the kyber crystal with a double-ended hilt.

“What of it?” she questions.

He regards her, eyes roving over the delicate half-made shape in her hands. “It suits you.”

Eyes locked, each other smiling, and his fades as he mutters, “I should go.”

She agrees, and with a roll of her eyes, “Thank you for your stimulating company, it has been most instructive.”

“Sentiment is dangerous to our cause. You know that,” he echoes her own words and with another almost-smile, he fades, and she’s left staring at the wall. How did this even happen? She’d been consumed with loneliness and he’d heard her across the reaches? Is that the trigger for this bizarre inexplicable connection that has followed her from death’s sleep and back again?

If he senses her depression, then she will endeavour to undertake any actions necessary to avoid it, because years later, her vision still scares the living daylights out of her.  


	20. Part Four: The Lost Archives

**_EIGHT MONTHS LATER…_ **

 

The Queluhan Nebula could possibly be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, and to be fair, she’s seen a lot of beauty in the galaxy. Its ionised gases twirl and dance in a pattern unlike anything that ever has or ever will be, stars blink through the sapphire-coloured mist as it twists and turns, glides and dips. If you turn away for only a few minutes, it will have changed completely.

In space, the Force feels muted, and one must become accustomed to the duller sensations and focus harder to find its strength. On planets, the stimuli is overwhelming, and one must learn to shield themselves from the energy of all the living and dead things pulsating and thriving all at once.

Planetside, she always feels so giddy with the enormity of it all, has to tamp it down and try not to _feel_ so much, because when she does, she goes too far. Bitter memories of tall crops, burning buildings and unnatural lightning storms come to mind.

But in the cold of space, there’s never enough. She’s always left wanting more, more, more. And it’s beauties like this, aberrations in the dark space between life – this is one of her favourite things. The forward viewport is designed for such awe-inspiring views. And it is there that Rey sometimes finds herself dancing. Boots discarded, cold, bare feet on shiny black floors, eyes closed. Like the pulsating, wisping, twirling blue nebula, Rey moves as though she too, could be a cluster of stars and coloured gases transcendent and ever changing, pointless except to share its beauty with passers-by and indifferent to the cares of the galaxy abroad, or any other living creature. Because she is born before the humans begun to wage war, and she will die long after they are gone.

“Milady?”

No. She doesn’t care right now for interruptions concerning petty human problems. Right now the Force she can feel that reaches through her core is the same that touches the heart of the nebula – and it is majestic. It is better than the warmth of the engines, the thrum of tens of thousands of souls and the pressurised flow of recycled air as it moves all around, imperceptible to most but very noticeable with her heightened senses.

He clears his throat this time. “Lady Snoke?”

She sighs. Feels her feet touch the floor, her skirt flutters down with them. Everything is heavier here, back in reality. Real people with real blood flowing through their veins, coming at her with real problems that she’s supposed to solve, because yeah, she’s the Supreme Leader’s right hand. It’s nice when she gets these precious moments alone. A little apathetic part of Rey wishes she was still in a coma, flying among the stars, straying from thought and time and pressure.

“What is it, Captain Dex?” she asks, turning to greet her favourite stormtrooper. He’s always been there, for as long as she can remember. And just because he only wears a helmet now for combat situations, and his armour is black with a red shoulder patch, doesn’t mean she thinks any higher of him. No, DX-4597 has always been better than the rest. It’s just that now he has the rank to prove it.

“There’s a mission in the Core I thought might spark your interest.”

“I have no interest in what the Intelligence Bureau is up to,” she narrows her eyes at the Captain. Kylo Ren is overseeing the Bureau at Leader Snoke’s insistence. The First Order is heavy on the intelligence-gathering phase of their plans, and mistakes can’t be tolerated. Who better to pull them into line? Who better to force them into doubling their efforts when previously, they had forever been asking for more resources? More man-power, more funds, more equipment. It was never enough, but now, she hears, Leader Snoke hears nary a complaint since putting his Apprentice in their midst. Productivity is high, for fear is a powerful motivator. She supposes it is a happy coincidence that Kylo Ren has a vendetta against the Jedi and being on the frontlines at the Bureau is exactly where it benefits him the most. Rey is quite content to be in a system far away and no; she has no interest in what the Intelligence Bureau is up to.

“Even if it is an open attack on a building on Coruscant?”

She calls the datapad to her hands with the Force. “He wouldn’t dare.”

“He?”

“Kylo Ren. He is still overseeing the Bureau is he not?”

“Yes, Milady.”

“Then this is a mistake. Have the mission briefing forwarded to Ren immediately priority one.”

“Milady, he prepared the mission briefing himself. Leader Snoke has approved it.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in, and Rey begins to seethe as she furiously swipes her finger up the datapad screen, skimming the details. It seems a data cache in an old Imperial building is the target.

“This is outrageous. The First Order has operated within the purview of Republic law, all our public business is perfectly legal. They can’t touch us! And Kylo Ren is willing to throw it all away to access a mother-kriffing archive?”

* * *

 

Captain Dex is not surprised at Lady Rey’s resourcefulness. He isn’t astounded at all when they stopover with other ship for an officer exchange, nor is he surprised when her encrypted transmission returns with a green light from Hux and Ren. It seems all so straight forward, a backup plan to compliment the assault on the Imperial Palace, in case they never make it to the vaults. One spy and one astromech droid in a one-man stealth fighter, to break Coruscant’s atmosphere, fly in beneath the radar and access the archive from the basement. It’s potentially suicidal, going in alone with no backup, but First Order Special Ops members are no stranger to danger. It’s their job. And sometimes the job is to die, for the greater good.

Captain Dex isn’t the least bit flabbergasted that such a specialist operative can be found at such short notice, nor the littlest bit amazed at Lady Rey’s clever addition to Ren’s plan.

His suspicions don’t start to rankle until Lady Rey retires early for the evening and turns off her comm device.

Even worse when her BB unit isn’t receiving transmissions either.

Worse still when the TIE stealth fighter that leaves for Coruscant enters hyperspace and departs with a familiar voice and call sign, _“Blackbird punching.”_

He finds himself standing in her very empty room, staring at her unwrinkled bedsheets and that unoccupied droid charging station with reproach. He has a very bad feeling about this.

In spite of that, he laughs. Just a chuckle, rubbing a hand over his chin stubble as he shakes his head.

If it were his teenage daughter running off and doing stupid things, he’d want to know. But she isn’t his daughter, and he won’t report her missing, against his better judgement. Of course if anyone can pull off a data-heist, it’s the Supreme Daughter. She’s been climbing up walls and spelunking through empty shafts and hiding in cavities since the moment she arrived from Jakku with the Supreme Leader, all wide-eyed and looking at the brand-new fixtures and fittings like the walls were made of precious metal. He’d been there since the beginning, since she came on board with nothing but the desert rags she wore, front teeth missing, hair tangled and strewn with sand.

So no, he won’t tattle to Leader Snoke.

Because apart from valuing his career and his life, he is also very fond of Lady Rey. She’ll be all right.

So Captain Dex, unsurprised by the turn of events, walks out of Lady Rey’s cold, empty bedchamber, and heads back for the bridge, to keep up the status-quo and plausible deniability.

* * *

 

_“Stealth fighter six-two-three you are clear for take-off.”_

She acknowledges the transmission and checks the time. Six hours to assault.

Rey straps herself in, checks on BB9-E as he undergoes his own system assessments, before the hangar bridge disconnects the magna clamps. She engages the thrusters, turning gently towards the stars.

“Stealth fighter six-two-three to control, request call sign usage. Blackbird, acknowledge.”

_“Acknowledge call sign. Blackbird your coordinates are set. Good hunting.”_

“Blackbird punching.”

She’s roaring through empty space, leaving her Star Destroyer and the nearby nebula behind. She engages the hyperdrive while BB9-E makes the calculations. A few moments later, he chirrups confidently and the hyperdrive has come online. Once she engages it, there is almost no momentary lull or lurch – that precious second of excitement. The new technology just about bypasses that altogether and stars begin to streak by.

A few hours later, when Rey drops out of hyperspace, she is greeted by a massive planet falling into shadow from the setting sun, completely besotted with the millions of city lights. She has studied the Core Worlds before but never stepped foot on one herself. Coruscant in real life, laying her own eyes on the city that spans the entire planet, is truly something else to behold. The Force is strong here, she notes, and full of echoes, of violence and tragedy. She tries to shake the cold feeling snaking along her spine, instead choosing to focus on her mission. Seconds after exiting hyperspace, she drops her fighter into stealth mode, running low thrusters that emit a barely visible glow, as she begins her slow descent into the city. As promised, the planetary defences leave a wide berth at her entry coordinates, although she has doubts that they can see her anyway. She imagines that Kylo Ren and his team will be entering at the same point in a few hours’ time, although in much more visible landing craft. Extraordinary what a few credits in the right bank accounts can accomplish.

As she descends through cloud and smog, the city becomes more visible and she sees thousands of buildings, tall towers thousands of storeys high, and lines of traffic that slowly move between them, at a synchronised pace. Then she sees it, passing through a city block, clear as day, the setting sun lighting the high-most towers of the former Imperial Palace, also former Jedi Temple.

Then the sun is gone, and the palace too, becomes a shadow speckled with lights.

She follows the traffic and moves closer and lower until she finds what she’s looking for. The underworld of Coruscant is a place of crime and decay, and according to the intelligence reports she’s been reading, abandoned buildings. She finds one such building, burnt out and empty, and lands her fighter on top. The smog clears from the movement of the fighter when she lands, but as soon as it’s still and the engines die, the smog returns and gives the ship an appropriate shadow of cover from prying eyes. Through the pollution, she can see the outline of the temple, looming far above and not far away. BB9-E bleeps, demanding her attention. He’s scanned the area and found a suitable access conduit that will lead them inside.

Sometime later, she’s commando-crawling through the tight space, and BB9-E is rolling through the access tunnel with ease. “Next time, BB, make sure the service tunnel is big enough for humans, too.”

He buzzes an apology and they continue. Soon the tunnel reaches a convergence and widens enough that Rey can stand. Her commlink beeps. Three hours left. There’s a barred gate at the end of the tunnel, which BB9-E disables and Rey cuts through it with her saber-staff. The next barrier is a series of blast doors, which the droid overrides and gives them access.

Minutes turns into an hour, then two, as the duo make their way through the tunnels, disabling the security features one after another. If not motion-sensor lasers, then electric pulses.

One of the pathways take them through disused stormwater culverts, flood water left stagnant, and eventually, they find an access hatch into the building.

Climbing through the schematics of the building is a harsh reminder of her stint as a scavenger, and the desire to be more than the desert-dwelling scum she used to be gives her motivation to move quicker and work faster. She’s looking precariously over a disused service hatch, when she sees it. The data vault. It stretches a hundred feet up and down.

BB9-E uses his retractable cables to lower himself onto the platform thirty feet below, and he beeps to confirm its stability before she, too drops down. He finds the closest terminal, and hacks in. There’s a lot of data to sift through, but eventually he finds the navigation charts.

He beeps for instruction. “All of it, of course,” she chastises, and her commlink beeps once more. Oh-nine-hundred hours. Time’s up.

She’s leaning against the data terminal, tapping her foot impatiently, when BB9-E tells her that the download is going to take at least an hour.

“We don’t have an hour,” she groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Soon the periodic lifeform scans will find them, and she will be forced to engage security from within the building, and she will be outnumbered. Although the data vault is temperature controlled, they could lower the temperature to below freezing and kill her once she’s passed out from the cold. They could electrify the cat walks. They could poison her with dioxis.

Ignoring the sense of dread twisting her stomach in knots, she becomes wary as Kylo Ren makes his approach on the old palace. She can feel him, and he can feel her. That warm tendril that snakes between them is rife with suspicion, then recognition, then anger. Belatedly, Rey realises that it must look like she’s interfered in his best-laid plans, meddling unwanted and sabotaging his mission. Of course, it must look like that, because she pulled strings masterfully, like father like daughter, all to pull the proverbial wool over the eyes of the Intelligence Bureau and their Leader to… what? To help?

Rey _is_ helping though. As danger pricks in the Force, it becomes painfully clear that not one of Kylo’s men, or Kylo himself would have any hope of reaching the vaults, extracting the data, and escaping before backup arrives.

That is, assuming that a full-on incursion with the Republic-armed forces is out of the question. Which it is. She hopes.

 

 

 


	21. Part Four: Extraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am overwhelmed by the positive feedback and ongoing support. It is very encouraging and truly humbling. Thanks everyone.

BB9-E reports thirty minutes to go, when the first alarm goes off. It is too early for the shift change or the periodic lifeform scans, so she knows it must be the ground assault force.

_“Rey,”_ she hears his unmistakable tone through her commlink.

His voice is chilling and hypnotic and very, very angry.

“What sort of time do you call this?” she jokes lightly. “I’ve been waiting for hours.”

_“Where are you?”_

“Coruscant, where are you?”

_“Do not push me, Rey,”_ he is seething, and she can hear it in his voice as much as she can feel it in her mind.

“I’m in the data vault,” she replies, forgoing banter in favour of getting down to business. “My droid is downloading the data as we speak, but it’s going to take another thirty minutes.”

A few heartbeats of silence, then, _“I’m coming to you.”_

His efforts to get to the data vault will be in vain. He will lead the security forces directly to her, and he won’t be able to access her position from that side anyway, not unless he has the codes to activate the bridge across the way. Regardless, she has already pushed him parsecs beyond his limit of patience and won’t try to stop him.

“He’ll learn the hard way,” she muses, and gets up from her seated position on the cold, hard floor. She begins to stretch out her limbs and run on the spot, trying to warm herself up for the inevitable conflict Kylo is bringing her direction.

Long before Kylo closes in on her position, she spots the first security officer, no doubt investigating the vaults after the scans have detected a breach. Perhaps he is expecting to see vermin chewing on wires, but for sure he doesn’t see a blur of red and black as she leaps from one catwalk to another, cutting him down with her crimson saberstaff. His body falls in pieces to the depths below, and she vaguely registers the distant noise it makes as it finds the unseen bottom of the shaft.

“Hurry, BB,” she calls back to the droid, whose response sounds suspiciously like a blown raspberry. “Don’t give me that tone!”

Kylo Ren is close now, only a few levels above her position, and that’s when the entire security team floods the data vault, dressed in tac-gear and sporting massive blasters. There are some thirty men surrounding her, some on the upper level, some below, but thankfully, none on her own level, so they haven’t noticed her droid downloading their precious data files.

“The Corusca Imperial Pride is taking back the home of Emperor Palpatine, the Imperial Palace will me ours once more!” she shouts to throw them off her purpose. It seems to work, because the most senior-looking security officer, noticeable for his big gun and emblazoned jacket, sneers at her.

“I didn’t order filth for dinner, what about you boys?” he goads, and the other men chuckle. “Kill her.”

Blaster bolts come flying from all above and below. She deflects most of them with her saber-staff, taking a few near misses, enduring little carbon burns on her arms and legs, and she leaps onto the platform above. Cutting through the first four soldiers with ease, having caught them off guard with her Force-jump, and she uses one of their bodies to absorb the blaster shots coming at her from below.

In deflecting a barrage of blaster fire from an awkward angle, she leaves herself open for attack as one of the soldiers runs and catches her off balance, and she drops her saber-staff. It falls onto the below platform out of reach. She has no time to call it back to her grasp, because then he’s on top of her, hands around her throat, and she gives him a well-deserved knee to the groin. Although he is in pain, groaning through gritted teeth, he is not dissuaded from his cause. So instead of trying in vain to pry his meaty fingers from around her throat, she retrieves a knife from her thigh and plunges it into his temple with all her might.

His body goes limp, and she tries to extract the knife, but no – it’s firmly lodged in the man’s skull and doesn’t want to come out. So she abandons it and pushes his body off her with the help of the Force, just in time to catch the rest of the security forces converge on her position with their blaster barrels all pointed at her.

Angry, she pulls all their weapons away with the Force and brings the guards to their knees. The first she throws over the edge and he falls with a scream. The second is given enough time to get to his feet, but by this point, Rey is so incensed that she sends an almighty push, knocking him and his two compatriots off the catwalk to their deaths below.

That was a mistake, she thinks, and along with her bruised throat, the carbon scoring dotting her body, she feels weakened from the efforts and her legs give out beneath her. She eyes her saberstaff laying on the platform below, and she can still hear shouting as blaster fire comes up at her from the level below that.

She summons the strength to jump back down one level to retrieve her saberstaff, taking another immediate forward leap and flip through the air to meet the remaining assailants on the next level down.

There are twelve of them and she cuts down the first two, deflecting more fire, and once they realise their guns are ineffective, they come at her with electrified batons. They successfully fight her off, pushing her back off the main platform and onto the skinny catwalk, and as the fight goes on, two more fall down, one of them taking the catwalk handrails with them.

Distracted for a few precious seconds, they now outflank her. She is surrounded and that’s when she feels Kylo _very_ close by. Afraid, she reaches out for him, and he lends his strength. Unaware such a feat could be possible, she pulls at his gnarled soul and drinks in the darkness, unleashing her power with a visceral scream. She defends attacks from four sides, and with each parry, she also strikes out, knocking one guard back far enough to attack the one behind. She cartwheels one-handed, giving two of them a butterfly-kick, while cutting another’s legs off, moving with incredible speed and ferocity.

Is this what Kylo feels, all the time? Always with one toe in that dark, bottomless pool of raw power? Drawing his strength from the abyss, while she is afraid to drown in it?

Rey is winning, and her body count is getting higher, and her assailants lesser. But when it seems as though the worst is over; the sound of many running footsteps indicates the arrival of reinforcements and her situation goes from manageable to fatal.

In desperation, she reaches to that dark place, deep inside where she has been too afraid to tread since Uquine. She raises her hands, palms outward to her advancing enemy, letting that cold ocean chill to the bone, and she lets it rip.

Force lightning forks from her palms with a brilliant blue light, snaking from one guard to the next. Some are dead, smouldering corpses. Others are groaning and struggling to their feet. Rey is spent. She falls to her knees again. Cold, so cold.

Sudden blaster fire kills the last of them, raining down from above. She gratefully looks up to the next platform to see the advancing stormtroopers as they destroy the remnants of the security team. Sees Kylo watching her, head slightly cocked to the side. With captivation or contempt – she doesn’t know for sure, only wonders how long he might have been standing there, watching her fight for her life.

With a limp, she makes her way back along the catwalk to the far platform and climbs the maintenance ladder to the next level up. A trooper offers a hand to pull her up, when BB9-E disconnects from the terminal with a satisfied series of beeps.

“He’s done,” she tells Kylo, “He got the whole thing.”

“Pull the company out,” he orders, and the stormtroopers retreat, with Rey and BB9-E in the centre of the formation, leaving bodies in their wake as they make way to the landing platform to where their transports await.

Halfway there, the troops need to slow their pace as they flank Lady Snoke and her precious droid, because she’s too physically drained to move at the necessary speed. It gets worse when the adrenaline wears off, and her jarred knee freezes up. When she stops altogether, an impatient Kylo Ren picks her up and tosses her over his shoulder, and she’s too fatigued to argue, in fact, she’s almost grateful. He gingerly sets her back down once they’re inside the troop carrier, and she makes way to the cockpit to give the pilot directions to her ship. They take off and disappear into the cloud of pollution that covers the underworld, just as more security forces arrive. The shuttle hovers over the rooftop where her TIE is parked, and Rey goes to exit the shuttle, when a firm hand stops her. “You’ve done enough today,” is all he says, and he jumps down to the roof and signals the shuttle to depart. She’s slipping in and out of consciousness, looking out the side viewport where she sees Kylo’s TIE flying alongside as they exit the upper atmosphere and make the jump to lightspeed.

There is a medic on board that tends to her scratches and scrapes, then with a body scanner declares that she’s fine, just fatigued, which she knows already, but her knee will need further scans and a few bacta injections. “Thanks for that,” is her curt reply, before she curls up over three seats and closes her eyes. The last thing she sees is BB9-E chirruping happily and a few troopers clapping each other’s back celebrating another successful mission.

The shuttle is stifling with comradery, mateship, and elation, and it’s so wonderfully human. It’s the last thing she thinks about before slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep. At one point, she feels a stinging sensation in her leg, but it isn’t enough for her to gain full consciousness.

* * *

  
She wakens several hours later in her quarters aboard the Finalizer, and finds herself asleep in her combat clothes, with her boots lain on the floor next to her and her gloves placed delicately on her bed-side table. She reaches out to touch them and feels a familiar feint energy, catching broken images of Kylo carrying her unconscious form to bed, and kissing her forehead before leaving the room, with an emotive “Thank you.”

They’re straying into dangerous territory, and she needs to leave. Now.

She comms the bridge from her terminal and asks them to prepare her a ship so she can return to the Supremacy. An hour later, she’s showered, in fresh clothes with her weapons and belongings in her satchel as she makes her way to the hangar, with BB9-E in tow, having downloaded the contents of the data vault into the ship’s memory banks. The droid tells her that General Hux is most pleased to have the entire contents of the data vault, not just the navigational charts.

Rey stops dead in her tracks. “The entire data cache?”

The droid beeps lightly in response, relaying that her instructions were, ‘all of it’.

“I meant all of the navigational charts, not the entire contents of the vault. Are you telling me I had to fight off a hundred highly skilled security guards, almost get myself killed, _unnecessarily?”_

The droid lets out a single high-pitched blip that sounds almost like a ‘yep’.

She growls, and the lights above her flicker and shake with the trembling force. “I should send you to the scrapheap, you… worthless ball of junk!”

Kylo Ren blocks the corridor ahead, and the droid curiously looks from its Master to Ren, several times before rolling off towards the hangar without her. A group of officers enter the hallway between both powerful force users, and revaluate their course, turning around and heading another direction.

“You’re leaving,” he states flatly.

“My work is done, I have other things to attend to.”

“Such as?”

“None of your business, that’s what.”

“The trans-galactic navigational chart we were looking for is incomplete,” he says. “We’re not done yet.”

“As I’m sure you heard, my droid retrieved the entire info-cache. If the map you sought is incomplete, that’s no fault of mine.”

“You did good today. We could use you.”

“The Supreme Leader doesn’t share your opinion. My presence is required elsewhere,” she says simply, without malice or discontent, and continues walking, past him, his masked eyes following her retreating form.

“Travel safe,” he calls after her.

“Sentiment, Kylo,” she warns before turning towards the corridor out of sight.

On her way to the hangar, she crosses the path of several stormtroopers and maintenance techs frantically repairing an all but destroyed console, slashed, burned and melted beyond recognition.

 


End file.
